I believe I’m one of those “unfortunate” souls who can’t have a decent night sleep, I didn’t mind before, it didn’t bother me because my body didn’t care either, but now she does… My bitchy body complains endlessly when I can’t have what the doctors say is a “good night sleep” a full “seven hours” routine without “interruptions.”
For real? Seven hours to actually sleep and do nothing, nah that doesn’t seem right…
Too many books to read, lots of ideas to write, gazillion doodles to sketch. Three to one seemed like a good ratio for nightly sleeping patterns, until you hit the stupid age of mid 40s and boom! You need more sleep.
My body starts bitching with headaches and sore muscles as if the night was a roller coaster ride high on adrenaline, my mind is trying to convince my body that no, it was not, just the same old $#!t as usual: walk the dogs, tuck in the kiddos, scroll the Instagram, snore, wake up to write, snore, doodle, snore, wake up to look at your husband snore and ask the universe how he does it, bathroom break, snore and finally morning comes to actually do something.
Anyway, is already morning and I have a date with my coffee, I feel accomplished and productive despite my body bitching about not sleeping, but guess what body? We have finish reading “The Wife” by Meg Wolitzer, the abandoned mandala project that we discovered in one of the moving boxes, a board vision craft (don’t ask), and folded all the laundry basket in a single night!
Later in the afternoon a martini awaits, SO looking forward to that date..