Literally. Nothing.
It is devoid of anything useful, profound, thought-provoking, or meaningful. It is a chocolate frosted bubble.
A hollow belch into the blogosphere.
Vacuous fiddle-faddle.
If you are debating between reading this or surfing over to You Tube to watch videos of laughing goats, all I have to say is, "Hang ten, Sister!"
And say "hi" to the goats. It will be time better spent.
Honestly, I am simply typing to keep myself awake at Tim Horton's until Christina's symphony rehearsal is over.
Why are you still reading? Don't you believe me?
Whatever. You've been warned, and I can offer no refunds for the squandered minutes of your life.
**********
Dear Bed,
So, not long ago, I bought this pillow.
It was clever, I thought, and at the time I really believed it. I gave it a place of honor on a chair near you, remember? And I snickered over it every night as I rolled into our room...
...well past midnight.
It made me smile and feel--let's be honest--vaguely superior to all the plebes who needed a solid seven in order to function.
"Ha!" I thought. "Sleep is for sissies, divas, small children, and old people. I have better things to do than waste precious time lying unconscious in my bed."
Well, today, I just want to say, "I'm so sorry."
And then I just want to say, "I'm so tired."
I'm the kind of tired that forgets what she is saying mid-sentence.
I'm the kind of tired that catches herself staring for long minutes into the fridge, into the pantry, into the dairy case at Walmart--into the small face of a talking child-- unable to remember why I am there and what I am supposed to do next.
I am the kind of tired that puts the cheese in the silverware drawer.
You know me, Bed.
I wasn't always like this. Growing up, I was devoted to you. In fact, I'm pretty sure you were my first true love. I slept as late as possible every morning from birth and napped voluntarily all the way through high school and part of the way into college.
I relished the feeling of sinking into my pillow in broad daylight, listening to the lazy drone of lawn mowers and airplanes and delivery trucks outside my window.
There was something delicious about knowing that I was choosing to shut down while everyone else was still stuck on the hamster wheel of productivity. Two hours later I would wake up in a post-concussive haze, blinking at my pillow as I tried to figure out who and where I was. Ahhh, bliss!
For years, you and I were the best of friends. It was in college, I think, that we had our first falling out. Halfway through my first semester I realized that my grade-point might be improved by giving up my regular 2-4pm siesta. I never told you, but I think that deep down I blamed you for the B minus I carried in botany that year.
I guess I thought you could have told me sooner that the time we were spending together was threatening my brilliant science career. But you didn't.
And, Bed, it drove a wedge. I still loved you, but I began to prioritize my life away from you. My grade point rose. I realized that I could see you a lot less and still function very well.
My social life improved. The less time we spent together, the less I felt I needed you. I discovered the heady feeling of productivity.
And you lost my heart.
Did you feel it? Did you notice my absence? I shudder to think of those nights when I only spent three, four, maybe five hours with you--but you knew I wasn't really "there"--that I was just using you to get me back up and out into the real business of busyness.
But then, college gave way to marriage and children and suddenly I began to see what I had missed for so long. Oh! How I saw it! At every 2 o'clock (and 3 o'clock, and 4 o'clock) feeding, as I stumbled out of your warm depths to retrieve a squalling infant, I promised myself that I would make it up to you someday. You recaptured my heart, soul, and imagination. I would sit in my rocking chair in the middle of the night and torture myself with the thought of spending one. Whole. Night.
With you.
But then, something happened. Even after the children were long past midnight feedings, I didn't return to your blissful depths any more than I absolutely had to.
It wasn't that I didn't love you. I did. But after so many years of living apart, I grew used to our separate lives. It sounds like a cliche (because it is. duh.) but we grew apart.
And life moved on. It wasn't anything you did, Bed, it was me. At some point I looked back over the years that had passed since we spent significant time together, and realized that our interests had simply gone in different directions.
You wanted to hold down the bedroom floor like always, because that is just you! As constant as the stars above. As sure as death and taxes (wait. that may be not be the cliche I'm looking for...)
As reliable as the sunrise (better)--and I love that about you! I do! Its just that after 12 hours with the kids, I needed some space. Frankly, I wanted to be awake with just myself.
For as long as possible.
(And with Jamey--but I don't want you to blame him! This is really all on me. You need to know this.)
With all the other responsibilities I carried at that time, I wasn't sure I wanted to dive back into another serious relationship.
Even though your dreams of a future with me might never come to pass, I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.
I know you care about me, and I want you to know, I have filled those long nights away from you with good things. Important things.
Like washing all the kitchen counters and cleaning dog drool off the floor and then standing in the room and watching it stay clean for five straight minutes.
Or wandering from room to room and listening to...nothing but sweet, heavenly silence.
Or walking downstairs and forgetting why and getting distracted by one of the projects I didn't finish earlier and then going back to grab something from upstairs (for the project) and seeing another half-finished project and remembering that THAT project was why I went downstairs in the first place.
And don't forget the Family Ties reruns that only come on after midnight! Good times!
Sometimes I like to stay up and read a whole article at once. And then get a snack. And then read another whole article. And then get another snack...
Or when it gets really late, and Jamey and I can't remember how to navigate from the couch to our room, we'll sit and click on our friends' You Tube videos. Or watch random cat clips, or virtuoso accordion performances, or incredible moments in sports.
Sleep is important, Bed, but so are these things! Can you see why it has been so hard to come back to you when my late nights are bursting with all these meaningful experiences?
Can you even put a price on a 2a.m. smorgasbord of ice cream, Captain Crunch, and honey-mustard pretzels?
You can?
Two cents?
Seriously. You sound bitter.
What are you saying?
Well I'm saying that I'm tired during the day because I am old, not because I should get to bed earlier.
Oh really! That isn't fair. Don't bring the kids into this.
OK, fine! Go ahead and ask the kids. They will tell you I am fully functioning during daylight hours.
Any head bobbing during read-alouds is simply a series of neck stretches I like to do every day between 2 and 4. Lots of moms do them.
Slurring in algebra! Who said that? Well, his ears are sometimes iffy. How many times do I have to call him before he even shows up for his seat work?
What? Garbled emails? I have no idea...exactly who have you been talking to, Mr. "I'm-Just-Sitting-Here-Under-A-Mound-Of-Pillows-Looking-Cute"?
What about the pillows?
Excessive? No. I don't think so at all. I'm pretty sure Martha Stewart or Oprah or Gandhi once said there is no such thing as too many pillows. It is a decorating law. The world is full of beautiful pillows and you are basically a blank canvas, with (apparently) TOO MUCH time on your hands and a critical spirit to boot.
You know, Bed, if you disagreed with my sleeping habits so strongly all these years, I'd like to know why you never said anything until right now. If I have been killing brain cells and losing motor skills and writing crazy emails to my kids' teachers due to sleep deprivation all these years, it seems to me that a real friend would have said something before now.
Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying. It makes me wonder.
You know, I was going to say I had thought twice about my new pillow.
That maybe you and I could make a new start and build on the friendship we once had, but I don't know now.
If I'm going to give up midnight Pringles and late night cleaning binges, it has to be for something real, Bed, and honestly, I just don't know where you and I stand.
A relationship has to allow for growth and change and I just don't feel that from you.
Frankly, its sad after all we've been through, but I'm not giving up. Maybe you just need a little more time to think.
And a few more pillows;)
Love, Sandra
2 comments:
Your having to much fun over there thinking about sleep, bed, and pillows! -Ang
You are hilarious! I totally needed that tonight......
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