Insomnia

It's going to the be death of me — this inability to sleep.

I meant to turn in early — around 1 a.m. But habit has robbed me of the pleasure of drifting off to sleep. And before I know it, it's 3:29 in the morn. The snore's emitting from my husband's mouth (or is it his nose, I can't tell?) project loudly, as though coming from an invisible megaphone that extends from his face.

I give him a jiggle, annoyed. "Babe!" I whisper very loudly.

He responds groggily ... unable to articulate his annoyance at this rude awakening.

I sigh ... nay, it's much more a groan. I toss and turn. I stare into the darkness; click on the TV, but the infomercials bore me. I count sheep; then seconds, minutes, hours. I sing myself a lullaby.

Ah! Perhaps I can drown out the snores by pretending to snore myself, I think, suddenly hopeful. I give it a try, but after a minute or two, I'm already out of sync, inhaling as he's exhaling. My fingers drum against my chest. Thumpety-thump. I wait, wait, wait for sleep to rescue me from this tortuous night. Where the hell is that damned sandman anyway?

Alas, I seek comfort in an old friend — my laptop. I push its buttons and make it light up. Its gentle glow envelopes the space around me. I think without actually thinking. Clickety-clickety-clack, clickety-clickety-clack, I commiserate with thee. Soon enough, I grow tired. My head nods, longing to rest upon the coolness of my pillow.

Finally powering off ... zzzzz ... just in time for the 7:30 alarm!