Saturday, January 24, 2015

No, I haven't died...although some may be forgiven for thinking so. I haven't posted here for years...the reason, or rather reasons, is a story - a very long story - for another day. 

Suffice to say that life has a tendency to get in the way of mortals' the point of derailing them completely.  But as I said, that story is a novella on it's own and will take some pulling of threads, sorting of strands and weaving together before it's ready to be told.

There are many eloquent writers in the blogosphere who are able to masterfully string words together in brilliant literary style...I am not one of them, so I won't be pretentious enough to even begin to emulate them.

Until the aforementioned little 'trifle' is ready to be published, if ever.....I present, for your amusement (hopefully) this silly little autobiographical piece....just remember it is written whilst in that state of not-quite-sane sleep deprivation which turns even the most sensible person a little whacky and other words, please don't judge it too harshly.

- oOo -

The Story of the (Almost) Worst-Three-Night’s Sleep and the Saga of the Eight Legged Dread

She remembered just how beautiful and luxurious sleep was after just two nights of crap sleep…actually, she realised it after the first but didn’t think much of it because there was always the thought that that night, without the summer heat (even though it was still only Spring), she could sink into a deep, uninterrupted, blissful, billowy, or was that pillowy…hmmm doesn't the mind do strange things….billowy sleep…and catch up on the sleepless, sweaty, sheet entangled joke-of-a-night’s-sleep that was Sunday’s.

 Of course that scenario didn’t happen…bloody mind…all day…wondering what to do with her shawl project…like a dog with a bone…a terrier…a bulldog…the sort that when it’s jaws are fastened on something, it won’t let go…even when you throw a bucket of water over it or threaten it with a rolled up newspaper…and on into Monday night…the same question…Bloody Mind: ”what shall we do with the shawl?”...Her: “You’ve gotta be kidding me…you’re gonna do this AGAIN…NOW…at 3 bloody a.m? For fuck’s sake!” …Bloody Mind: “Never mind that now – here’s what I think…”[and on it went - idea after idea...and she had to admit some of them were pretty damn good…although…maybe anything would look good at that time of the morning]. 

So….Tuesday was kind of fuzzy and trippy…and yes she did work out what she would do with this panel of the shawl…to her satisfaction…or at least satisfaction at the time, which may not be saying much since she was so tired…she felt she would be forever thankful that that was sorted…she might get some sleep after all…third time lucky and all that…

Huh! When did the world ever work like that?

The Man had been out with clients all day and had gone on to an evening training course…so with The Boy asleep…she shut the cat in the laundry and got ready for bed. Everything was gloriously quiet…it was time to lock the doors and leave sufficient lighting for The Man to safely navigate his way through the house. Bloody mind…tired mind…human mind…all the crises in the world and it goes for…”hmmm which light should I leave on?...not living room [click]…dining room? [click]…not dining room [click]…living room [click]…betttt….AAAAAAAAAAARGGH…shit, shit, shit…[mental, in all senses of the word, sirens going off] Spider on the floor! SPIDER ON THE FLOOR!...that’s the biggest effing spider I’ve seen….bloody hell it takes up half the room”…well, not really….but she still thought it was pretty big. The Heroic Spider Rescuer wasn’t home so she resorted to primal instinct…she retreated to the kitchen to retrieve her weapon of choice -the MegaAwesomeAnybug-That-Moves-FastSquisher a.k.a. the fly swatter…would it work on such a ginormous arachnid?...would the beast still be there when she got back? was…but …[WHACK] in keeping a safe distance, which was still incredibly-too-close-for-comfort, of course her reach fell well short…lucky spider! [said ginormous arachnid scuttled beneath the armchair]….Oh hell!…She calculated the distance from the chair to the wall and decided the proximity of one to other excluded a peek around the back to see if the monster had mounted the wall….shaking, heart in mouth, she got to the floor and peered under the chair…determining that it was too dark to see, it was time to get out her weapon of second choice, the UltraExpensiveNothing’sGonnaEscapeThisSuperSuckingDevice, which she was sure took sadistic pleasure in becoming extra scarily loud in suspense filled moments like these….mwahahahahaha it roared. With near-mortal-terror she got down on the floor and pushed the nozzle under the chair, all the while being hyper vigilant for the slightest movement that would indicate the monster had evaded death and was taking an obliquely angled escape in her direction. She knew she hadn’t succeeded…the thing was so big it was bound to have rattled along the tubing if she had…Damn it!…There was nothing for it…she’d have to wait for the return of The Spider Rescuer…she sent frantic psychic messages to the spider – please stay in the living room, please don’t suddenly decide you need to come to my bedroom…and sent even more frantic messages to The Rescuer - please HURRY UP!!!!

So much for an early night…she sat on her bed with the lights out, put her ear buds in and chose her 'Let’s Meditate to Om' Ipod playlist (yes, it really was called that)…yeah, well, that wasn’t going to work with all that adrenaline still charging through her system….finally, she heard The Rescuer’s car pull up in the driveway. She flew downstairs…well, not really 'flew' coz she had to stop and turn on the light and scan the wall and stairs in case the spider-from-hell had not heeded her pleas to stay put…she nevertheless flew in a not-very-fast way to greet The Gallant Rescuer and beg that he undertake the dangerous and harrowing quest to drive out the Eight Legged Dread from the castle…after many long seconds-that-felt-like-hours and with weary steps (he’d had a long day) he finally reached the living room…lifted the armchair away and revealed The Dread’s actually-quite-beautiful form (which is a well known and extremely disconcerting quality of otherwise terrifying monstrous monsters).....clinging to the wall, thinking itself safe in the shade of the vast leather monolith. Having completed his reconnaissance, The Gallant Rescuer returned to the armory and selected his unbelievably-reckless-and-out-of-her-league weapon.....


...Oh Brave and Noble Rescuer! 

Together they advanced to the living room.....having reached the battle field…oblivious to her distress, The Rescuer related an annoyingly relaxed and if-it-had-been-any-other-time-it-would-be-funny tale of his adventures of the day. Trying not encourage him by responding much to his story, she kept flicking her eyes to her nemesis on the wall in the vain hope that her Rescuer might get the message and hasten in his quest. Aggravatingly slowly he finished his tale and then…with an anticlimactic, quick pounce-and-slide, captured The Mighty and Terrible Dread.

Complying with her pleas to do so, The Rescuer braved the balmy night and released the poor thing back onto the wild black plains of ...The Road…well away from the castle and motorised chariots. completed…one more task and she could level-up to A good night’s sleep. She settled in front of the tv with The Man and watched with glazed eyes until she decided the adrenaline had sufficiently left her body…bed, at last.

Dear reader, you may think that this ends our tale. Alas, no…not quite....

In the quirky laws of this world and despite the administration of melatonin, which was supposed to secure a restful sleep for The Boy…at 3 bloody a.m. (because that is its correct term) she was woken by the familiar but unwelcome thud and muttering of The Sleepless Boy...Oh no, not tonight!

If you've ever stayed in her house, you'd know that The Boy owns a special clock...not only does it tell the time, it also has a face display that indicates clearly whether it is sleep time....or time to get up - which is definitely not 3 bloody a.m...which is why, knowing he should be sleeping and having noisily opened his bedroom door, he quickly closed it again - just as noisily.

She lay there hoping, but not really believing, that he would just go back to such luck of course...again The Boy opened his door and again he shut it. She went into his room to investigate the problem...Her: "Are you okay? What's the matter?" TSB: "My eyes are stuck together"...oh great, conjunctivitis...Her (peering closely): "No, they are fine. TSB (with eyes open): I can't open them! Her: Sweetie, your eyes are open, I can see they are open. Put a bit of water on a tissue and wipe them, they'll be fine." TSB: "Okay." Eyes duly wiped, she kissed him goodnight and invited him to try sleeping. After spending several minutes reassuring him that his eyes were indeed open and that they were perfectly alright she backed out of the room, wondering which Gods she had offended...please let The Boy go back to sleep.

Could a bed ever feel as comfortable as the one she now lay on? Sleep finally came but not nearly enough of it...6am and The Boy bounced out of bed...*sigh*

Ah well, perhaps tonight.

- oOo -

P.S. I went looking through Google images with search parameters "sleep deprivation" and came across this....

I can't make up my mind...someone sick and twisted is taunting me?....I'm doing it wrong?....someone has never been sleep deprived?....this is an illustration of the antonym? ...whichever way....aaaaargghhhh.



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