Sleep, Glorious Sleep
Just like every other 9-year-old in the world, I hated going to sleep. My brother, Jeremy, is 6 years older so he was allowed to stay up much later than me. When 8:45 rolled around and it was time to put down my book or walk away from the TV to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, I’d trot out my acting skills in an attempt to convince my mother that I was wide awake and should be able to stay up. This never worked.
Meanwhile, I’d hear my brother in his room, which was half of the attic of our small farm house, tending to his fish tank and talking on his phone with the 48’ spiral extension. Miracuously, Jeremy was able to navigate the slanted ceilings without ever bumping his head or even slightly messing his 80’s feathered haircut. I desperately wanted to be 15 like Jeremy so I could stay up later. I always felt like going to sleep meant I’d be missing out on all the cool things that happened late at night like midnight snacks and The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.
But alas, I was off to bed at 9:00, Pooh by my side and tucked in tightly because I was convinced a snake lived under my bed. This was not entirely impossible living in an old farmhouse where there were numerous snake sightings during my 20 year residency.
Speaking of our house, it had a certain creep factor that was undeniable. I was convinced there was a ghost that lived in our kitchen which was unavoidable on the route to our only bathroom. As you can imagine, I did everything in my power to not have to use the facilities between the hours of 9pm and 6am. There were also a lot of towering maple trees in the yard which danced all night making images that would scare Freddie Krueger. Actually, that kitchen ghost probably scared Freddie Krueger too. And if I’m honest, I’m 90% certain something unexplainable still hangs out with my mom’s cast iron skillets and Pyrex bowls every night.
I was in bed by 9:00 and fast asleep by 9:03, but during my waking hours I still longed to stay up later and be a part of the adult world. Little did I know Jeremy was probably doing homework and my mom was folding laundry, waiting to wake my dad to send him off to his 3rd shift job at Weideman’s.
Oh how things change! 35 years later, all I want to do is sleep. When my alarm goes off in the morning I resist the temptation to hit snooze (something I’ve been embracing for the last couple months) and I drag myself out of bed obsessing over when I’ll be able to crawl back into my sanctuary. I can honestly say my favorite place in the world is my cozy, comfy bed. I write in it, I read in it and if I weren’t married and sharing it with someone who wouldn’t appreciate crumbs, I’d eat crackers in it too.
I come from a long line of bed lovers. My aunt Peggy notoriously spent much of her free time watching TV and reading in her bed. My brother’s favorite pastime is watching Hallmark Channel Christmas movies in his bed. I suspect my German immigrant ancestors that settled in Northern Kentucky in the late 1800’s brought with them fine linens and fashioned straw mattresses as the first order of business. Either way, I’ve fallen in line with the family tradition and embrace my bed and not just from the hours of 9pm-6am.
As I’m working on my October goals (Blogtober-31 blogs in 31 days, read 4 books, and 20 yoga classes) my writing has crept into my sleep time. So tonight, as I sat down to write, my heavy eyes and foggy brain kept me from working on my planned blog about the most embarrassing moment of my life. Hopefully, I’ll be able to finish that one soon. Trust me, you won’t want to miss this tale that’s full of shits and giggles—literally.
Oh and the other thing that’s changed over the last 35 years…I’m no longer bummed I’m not as old as my brother. Love you, Jeremy!
On that note, I’m off to Snoozersville. I hope you have a glorious night’s sleep and I’ll catch you on the flip side.
