Another sleepless night
I really hope Jake understands.
I mean honestly, truthfully, understands.
I hate having to cut our days short because I need this little thing called sleep.
I already have one day I don’t sleep a week. Today will make it two days. Yes, true, I coulda said no tohorseback riding, but Jake and I don’t get to see eachother as often as we’d like and it’s been a few weeks since I last hung out with him, so I figured I owed it to him to not sleep on my last day off, and go riding with him.
He asked me if we could spend the whole day together and I answered that it would depend on if I could sleep or not. He answered ‘Ah.’ which, to me, doesn’t sound pleasing.
This is the reason I hope he understands. Honestly, truly, understands.
I’ve explained to him about my being a night owl. I’ve tried explaining to him that his 9am is my 9pm; that I sleep during the day. He KNOWS that I usually go to bed between 6-8 in the morning and wake up between 3-5. I’ve operated that way since about the new year, when I switched to working night shift. Even before then, on my days off my schedule would run like it is now. The only difference was on days I worked, because my old shift started at 2, I would be up around 1, still going to bed around 6-8am…so really, he should know my sleeping schedule, he’s known me for almost two years now.
Anyway. I really hope he understands when, come about five or six o’clock tonight, when I start becoming bitchy and moody, that it’s not him pissing me off. Just the fact that, in my time, I would have already been up for over 24 hours the second time this week, and just want to sleep.
Should he happen to ask about it, I have decided I’m going to tell him, for the last time, my schedule is backwards. Though we were riding horses starting at 11am, it was my 11pm.
I’ll go ahead and probably tell him that I’ve told him this before, and inquire about what he’s not getting; the fact that he’s dating a night owl, or the fact that I am human and need sleep to function as bubbly as I usually do when we get together later at nights.
Depending on my mood, I’m hoping to make it as nice as I can.
Who knows, I may even tell him what I’ve wanted to tell him for some time (I just haven’t found an appropriate moment to bring it up) that maybe he should get up at 2am for me and live my schedule for a week to see how he likes being sleep deprived. I get off work at 3am. He starts work at 6am. We could have breakfast for a week or two, and on his days off we could play on my schedule, again, for a week or two and see exactly how he holds up trying to work like that, trying to please his family with the schedule I have.
He’ll soon notice my point.
And for those of you wondering, I’ve always been like this. It started back in middle school and no matter what I’ve tried, I cannot magically become a morning lark. Yes, I’ve spoken with doctors, and they’ve all said it’s depression. Depression I’ve experienced. This isn’t depression. This is just a case of having a screwed up internal clock, and I’ve becomed accoustomed to it and have accepted it. I only wish others would.
So, in all respect toward the boy I really do love dearly,
I hope he understands.
Because I’d hate to be a bitch about it.
<3,
Xoxo!
Can i hit snooze?
Hello Strangers!
Because of my boss leaving, I opted to pick up a few hours of overtime. Since I have a hard time waking up (and especially after four hours of sleep), I let everyone know to wake me up, including my boyfriend who was to call me at 2. 1:45 rolls around and my alarm goes off. I hit my snooze button and almost simulltaneously, my phone rings.
It’s the piano riff to ‘Bad to the Bone.’ I knew instantly it was my baby, bless his heart, giving me my wake up call. Fifteen minutes early.
I don’t know about you, but I see sleep quite often, as important as baking a cake. You can’t over-bake it because it’ll burn and ruin everything. You can’t take it out too early because it’ll be mushy inside. With sleep, if you oversleep, it throws off the whole day, making you late for your appointments, making you rush around…waking up early, just like the cake, leaves you feeling mushy and sluggish. Even 15 minutes of not getting properly baked (or browned, whichever suits your fancy) can have rather adverse effects on the morning.
However, I managed to fight off the grumpies the moment my mans sweet voice entered my ear. I got up, making sure to remember to deactivate my alarm clocks (yes, I said clocks. I have two of them. I told you I can’t wake up in the morning), because there’s nothing worse than having to mad-dash down 12 stairs, dodging around a drumset and guitars into the bedroom to turn them off before the neighbors start to complain. I went upstairs, disheveled and yawning almighty, not caring about my appearance, and fixed my morning coffee.
In the living room was my mama and her glass of milk. The usual fight of keeping Patches, our overly curious cat, from harboring her own little piece of cow fluids ensued. There Patches sat, in all her glory on the small round, wooden table with the glass top that’s placed to the left of mama’s chair. Her nose (the cat, not mama) was delicately lifted, eyes slit, attention fully on the white substance in mama’s glass. Slowly Patches would inch closer, raising a paw to mama’s arm before pressing her weight down and leaned forward to sniff the smoothness if the glass, her nose following the slender outline keeping her from the tasty treat.
After a while, and a few giggles later from both mama and me, we led her into a kitchen where I provided her with her own sweet tid-bit of milk in a shallow dish. It wasn’t long before our other cat, a tabby named Annie, found her way into the kitchen, keeping a wide berth between herself and Patches (they don’t get along unless they’re both sleeping), and made her own little cruning noises that told us she would very much like to have a little herself.
Both cats happy, we ventured back into the livingroom where our neighbors who live across the street put on a riviting ‘discussion.’. All that was missing was a soundtrack, possible written by Danny Elfman that could capture the tense moments, the walking away, the turning back, the talking, walking away, turning back, walking away, turning back, hugging, the tears and final relief of making up before the credits would begin to roll.
Yes, it has been quite an eventful morning, though I have the pain behind my eyes signaling that if I only took 15 more minutes to wake up and forefitted the chance to give the kitties milk, and to observe the fight across the street, I would have been able to bake my cake, and eat it too.
<3,
Xoxo!
