Day 237 – Dragging

I didn’t sleep much last night. I thought that I was going to sleep well, because I was about to fall asleep on the couch in front of the football so I chose to go and do it in bed (careful now), but by the time I’d sorted the beagle, locked up and got upstairs, I was wide awake. Wiiiide awake.

Lot and lots going on in my mind. My health insurance people would have had a field day.

Things stayed like that for about four hours. And then once I did get to sleep, I woke disappointingly early and lay there for another 1½ hours… just thinking.

I wouldn’t advise it. It’s left me feeling like a zombie today, and yet there were all the things that the awake me should have been doing today, still to be done. What a disaster.

I’m long overdue a “catchup” night, whereby I… er… catch up on my sleep that I’ve missed over the last n nights. I’m very hopeful that tonight will be that sort of night. I need it. Especially as my son has just asked me to explain the formula for compound interest:

Normally when in this condition, I’d fob him off with an “ask your mum” or a “come back tomorrow and I’ll explain”, but she’s not home and he actually has a maths exam tomorrow, so I used the last of my brain power to try and talk him through it.

That’s why this blog post is so poorly written and disjointed.

There’s literally nothing left. I’m so sorry.

Early again

Each morning this week, I have had to drag myself out of bed at 6 to sort the kids out ahead of the school run. Parenting, ne?

Today, when I had the (much needed) opportunity to stay in bed a little longer, my brain decided that 5:40 would be the best time to boot up and begin actively thinking. Which is something it needs to do each morning,sure.

But twenty to six?

It’s only lunchtime and I’m already looking forward to bedtime this evening.


Recently, I have found myself awake a lot at night. I have been known to go through patches of insomnia now and again in the past, but this has been going on for almost two weeks now. It follows on from my trip up north, during which sleep was necessarily at a premium, and after which I banged out only the second 12 hour slumber since I moved to SA. That was great, but it was the last decent night’s sleep I can remember.

So what’s the issue here?

My best guess is computer exposure. I have been sitting in front of a screen for several (or more) hours each day, and I think that my system (as in my body system, not my computer system) has forgotten how to manage that. It’s just not used to it anymore and one of the effects is not being able to sleep, even when I’ve switched off the laptop by 8pm.

And then once I’m not asleep, my mind really kicks in with all of the thoughts necessary to keep me awake for quite literally hours on end. Important stuff, trivial stuff that it thinks now should be considered important, a full analysis of why I’m not sleeping and just how much sleep I’m not getting, wondering if I should set up a phone farm, and myriad concerns over who I should pick for my fantasy league side for the upcoming season.

I haven’t been paying much attention for the last couple of months.

I’m due a catch up night, and I have high hopes that it might happen tomorrow. The situation is currently manageable, albeit with slightly slower reactions and a slightly shorter fuse than normal (but I have a pretty long one anyway) (careful now), but will soon become untenable if things continue this way. Thankfully, if all else fails, draft night is on Tuesday so I won’t be able to worry about my picks for much longer anyway.

But then suddenly, it’ll be the real thing on my mind. Oh goodness.

Stick in a five and go

I got punched last night. Quite hard. On the bit of my chest where it kind of joins my shoulder: bang in the pectoral. Right hand side.
It was quite a firm punch. Not massively hard, but certainly not a tickle either.

It was definitely enough to wake me up.

My time was 04:59 and the culprit was my wife. Having thumped me, she went back to sleep and I was left wondering why on earth I had been the victim of this wholly unprovoked assault. And let’s be absolutely clear here: an assault is exactly what this was, not some restless flailing arm. This was a decent right hook, clenched fist, delivered with reasonable force.

When I tackled her (not literally) about the incident this morning, she denied all knowledge of it. Which is exactly what she would do, of course. If there was ever an easy way to absolve oneself from allegations of spousal abuse, you wait until the wee small hours of the morning, stick in a five and go.

No witnesses, no protracted argument: claim total innocence.
And how can I even argue?

But hey: if I suddenly succumb to an overnight death by punching, you’ll know where to go looking, right?