I Just Wanna Sleep...

The first thing I think about when I wake up is, “I can’t wait until it’s time for bed.” I’m always tired. Literally ALWAYS. It’s sad, actually. But I manage to drag myself through the day, and when it’s time for bed, guess what happens? I. CAN’T. SLEEP.

Something about lying in bed, in complete silence, listening to the mister snore, gets my mind racing. The first thing I managed to think about is meatballs. I’ve been trying to make extra dinner so we can have freezer meals, and yesterday, I made meatballs. I made about 60 meatballs, and we ate about 5. According to the Pinterest recipe (Pinterest-addict), I had to freeze them on the pan for a while before putting them in bags to freeze long-term. Something about the snoring, the sound of the fan, the pitch black, made me remember that I forgot the damn meatballs. I even woke up the mister just to tell him.

After the meatball extravaganza, I ended up back in bed, hoping for sleep. Then I had to pee. 4 times within an hour – seriously. My bladder is the size of a pea (pun intended!)… okay, that was really lame, I apologize. Once I tripped over the fan and made a bunch of noise, I ended up comfortably back in bed, and all I wanted to do was FALL ASLEEP! Suddenly my brain is singing John Mayer and Rockin’ Robin. We heard that stupid robin song on a TV commercial earlier in the night, and I promised my mister – I’d be singing it for days. Something about that ridiculous song is so catchy. So I made myself stop singing, and tried to sleep, and ended up thinking about…

Uniforms in the dryer. They’re going to get wrinkled. I should have put them away before bed. Should I get up? And do laundry? At this hour. I forced myself to stay in bed, but suddenly I found my iPhone in my hand. Yeah, this is going to help me sleep. Now I’m online shopping for stuff I don’t need (what’s new?) and stalking people on Facebook. And I know you’re supposed to “power down” an hour before bed to help you sleep (I heard that in a Mike Birbiglia joke once. He’s funny stuff). So I put my phone away, and pray for some sleep. I start thinking about how strange it is that my mister is suddenly fantasy-football-obsessed, and how I can’t wait to go home for Christmas, and how I have a ton of homework to do this week, and how I hate Mondays even though I don’t have a job. And then I start taking my pulse – 60 seconds at a time, wondering if my heart is going to stop overnight. I have a crazy fear of not waking up, but I also have a freakishly slow heart rate at night. I need to go to the doctor. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find a new doctor.

And right when I’m about to fall asleep, my phone vibrates. Who is texting me at this hour? Of course I can’t ignore it – what if it’s an emergency? It’s not. It never is. And now I’m just back to square one.