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I knew I was well the other night. Sleep started to fail intermittently about midnight. Not long after three in the morning I surrendered and got up. For about half my life I'd been vulnerable to random shifts and failures in sleeping.

When I lived in Manhattan I slept like a vampire. After seeing Siobhan off to work in the morning I'd finally fall asleep.

Many years ago I would fall asleep while watching movies in the evening only to wake up about one or two in the a.m. But thankfully would fall back asleep after an hour or so. I ran an old dialup BBS back then so I'd work on it until my restlessness abated.

That shifted to falling asleep at my used bookshop. That would annoy the hell out of my business partner, Gordon, because I'd snore. Not a welcome sound at work in the early afternoon. I couldn't control it. My eyes would close and I was gone.

Now I wage a little war with myself, trying to stay asleep until six in the morning. Usually I lose. Around midnight I sometimes get up come to this PC and delete spam. Within a half hour I return to bed engaged in a militant effort to fall back into slumber.

I've become so habituated to insomnia that I just lie there telling myself stories, amusing myself with whatever thoughts come my way.*

It isn't being awake when I don't want to be that is rough. It is the workday. Even as a self-employed man I don't feel keen to get on to my shop hours after waking up. As I walk out the door I feel that if I could go back and lie down I'd finally be able to rest. That doesn't happen on my days off so I just get on my way.

Makes me miss the days I'm sick sometimes. Being able to sleep for ten or twelve hours at stretch is a real sensual treat when four or five is your usual quota.

* Often involving powers and abilities beyond anyone not a deity. And, of course, the least plausible sexual fantasies: very dry dreams I fear.

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Pansexual Sodomite
My Life is an Open Blog
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