I don’t sleep much.
Well, I do, but only after pulling out my arsenal of props: the white
noise from my sound machine, four pillows (two under the head, one under the
knees, and one wrapped in my arms like a good lover), 2 magnesium tablets (one
is never enough), a Xanax (Thank God I grind my teeth; my dentist suggested that
sucker J)
and here's the most important of all --- my pitch a*s black room -not a ray of light anywhere.
Once all the characters are in place, I begin the next
process: those prayers the nuns taught me three life-times ago: Our father,
followed by three Hail Mary’s and The Act of Contrition. No matter I haven’t been
a Catholic for forty years. Sister Conception convinced me if I forgot
one night, or God forbid, died in my sleep, I would never leave purgatory. She’s been dead three decades and I’m still
scared of her.
Even after all that,
no sleep comes. So, I start my meditation chant : Open heart; quiet mind; relax the body.
I say it over, and over, and over and over.
I do finally sleep. I
know this because that’s when a chin
hair grows. Seriously, all women get
them -- young women too. I know a twenty something gal who has them. Relax, I’m not naming you. They must come at night because they aren’t
there during the day. Weird
suckers! I have to keep going to the gym
for weight training just to have the strength and energy to pull it out. It’s like a piece of fishing line or dental floss. I think it’s the testosterone they prescribe
in my natural bio-identical hormones. I
can bench press some heavy weights, okay, not that heavy, but I can’t get out one dang chin hair. I'm going to all that trouble to sleep, just so it can sprout. Does that make any sense at all? I'm not convinced there's that much value in a good night's sleep. There are so many other things I could be doing besides nurturing this flesh garden. Lord, what is the sense in it all? Maybe this should follow my Act of Contrition. My prayers need updating.
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