Sleep...It's Not All That!

I love snow when it's falling.  I even love it after it sticks...as long as it's off the roads in a considerably short length of time.  Snow may be the best thing about winter...or the only thing.  Well, there's the bug kill-off, but I'm not certain if that actually happens.  Probably some attempt to make us feel better about freezing temps without snow.

Cold temps and short days make for excellent excuses to nap.  That is, unless you have a demanding job or family or if you find yourself in a persistent, chronic, irritable and totally dysfunctional sleeping pattern that has appeared out of the blue.  Memories of sleeping late on Saturday mornings are so faded, the possibility of them being real is in question.  But I YEARN to experience them again!  Apparently, sleep patterns change as we age.  Who knew?  And, yea!

Regularly fortified with Advil PM, the first hour of bedtime is more or less comfy and sleep is somewhere right under the surface line of daydream and wakefulness.  With one cat at my feet or curled next to my body, the second cat proceeds to tiptoe - yes, it can happen - between my hubby and me to stop between our pillows.  The purring is loud and I am bemused.  Until turning onto my side and finding within centimeters of my face a very furry head with whiskers....which is LAYING on my pillow!

Unable to sleep in one position long, the constant turning and repositioning seems to be annoying to the  felines - bless their hearts - and effort is made to disturb as little as possible and avoid stripping all the cover from my blissfully sleeping spouse.  Right.  Stretching out one leg to still the arthritic stabs announcing their rightful place, I am suddenly pushing against a brick wall...nope, it's the Sassy cat who has decided she cannot share a pillow with restless me and has looked for a roomier space.

Then there are the innumerable trips to the potty...I must stop drinking sweet tea at bedtime.  Each time, disentangling myself from the lounging animals, sitting on the edge of the bed looking sideways at the clock (never look directly for the disappointment of the early hour will produce in-som-ni-a), the cats think I am getting up to feed them and begin to meow.  Shushing them as quietly as possible, tip-toeing quickly across the tile floor (cold!), keeping the eyes closed as tightly as is safe, the errand is finished and I am once again in the bed...with the sleeping husband and two cats who take as much time getting comfortable again as me.

This routine goes on through the night until exhausted, I relinquish the bed for a walk through the house and a cup of coffee.  I have gone from a sleepy head you had to drag out of bed to an aging lady very familiar with four o'clock mornings watching the dark turn into light.  Amazed that my life could span such extremes, I am reflective, valuing my time and thankful to be alive, albeit a tad sleepy.  

I'm thinking the Lord knew I have wasted too much of my life in excessive sleep.  So, it's over.  Time to do and think and reflect and respond.  Time to experience pain which makes for more compassion for those who ache pain and misery, even of the mind.  To honor those of the golden years because of the graver appreciation of wear and tear, the slowing down of processes, both physical and mental.  To understand and commiserate with the woes of others.

As I regretfully yet forcefully  leave the comforts of my bed, I realize that the bodily discomforts of bad make way for good...as in more time to turn inwardly for assessment, evaluation of shortcomings and needful confessions, and perhaps an adjustment of attitude in acceptance of things out of my control.  I'm thinking the Lord knew I needed this...and I am thankful.