Join Me in Snarkville

It is no secret that I don’t sleep well.  It is also no secret that without a certain amount of sleep, I get crankier than any normal human is willing to put up and often Prince will be forced to push me into my room, lock the door with an order of don’t come out until you’ve slept (or take some PMS drugs — whichever).  Finally, what ranks up there with the travel agent who gets motion sick (yes on ships!) is that time zones kick my butt.  Seriously, three time zones will beat me up, leave me black and blue and not even have the heart to hug me and promise never to do that again.

So, you see I did a wee bit of traveling — I estimate something like 70 billion miles in two weeks — ok, more like 8 or 9 thousand, but still.  Now, it took me a few days week to adjust to the new time zone.  Not that I was going to bed anytime before midnight (more like 2 or 3am) or sleeping later than 6:30am mind you — so I had pretty much convinced myself that I would have NO problems adjusting back (’cause after all, when you are existing on 3 to 5 hours of sleep a night, you get all insane like that).

I travelled all flipping day yesterday and still got back to the homestead before noon.  Duke had napped on the plane; I had seethed hate for an old woman in front of us who didn’t know how to use her “indoor laughing voice.”  I closed my eyes for a few seconds on the ride home.  We got sort of settled back in and I curled up on the couch.  I know I closed my eyes, I have no idea how long or how deep I slept — I just remember Prince saying “It is almost 5pm, if you don’t wake up now, you won’t sleep a wink tonight.”  (He’s a sleep planner, I’m more of a take-it-when-you-can, girl.) Ok, I’ll try.

Duke announces at 5:30pm that his greatest desire in the whole wide world RIGHT then is to go to bed.  We tuck him in and he is out like a light.  I read some (I’ve only got 123 more blogs to catch up, folks); I knit more; I watch the last bits of Survivor.  When I think it must be closing in on 11pm because I’m SO tired.  I announce, “I’m going to bed.”  There was a quick flash across Prince’s face, like “who are you?” but it passed.

I climb into bed. I look up at the ceiling (I have a projection clock). 9:05pm.  I think, “yes, but my body must think it is like midnight or something.”  I go to sleep.  I don’t wake, stir, or even consider hating Prince for turning over or stealing covers.  UNTIL 4am.  I hear in the darkness, “Mama, help me.”  My eyes fly open.  It isn’t a panic voice, so I calm down.  I walk across the hall.  “What do you need buddy?” (I think I say that — but I’m fairly sure it came out, “Wh Mmm Nnn bud?) “Help me with my blanket, Mama.”  Ok, I striaghten out the blanket and go back to bed.  I actually get back to sleep (people, circle this day on your calendars).  I hear a party in my dream.  There’s a train (a tank engine) and some track — even some laughter and crashing a bit.  Then this really loud voice, this angry voice says, “DUKE, GET BACK IN BED - it isn’t wake-up time”  I’m a awake now.

So, I toss and turn from 4am to 6am — but I got sleep — I slept from 9pm to 4am!!!  This is a red letter day — maybe I’ll only need one cup of coffee? (Nope, that’s just crazy talk)