Tag Archives: sleeping

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

26 Oct

This morning, I woke up at 6 AM. Fed the animals, inside and out, ate, showered, and took the dog for a mile-long walk at the park.

Those who know and love me (and even those who don’t even like me) realize this behaviour is wildly out of character.

I have always needed more sleep than the average bear. Even as a small child, I took two naps a day until I started school, and always took a nap when I got home, until my dad came in and wakened me for dinner. On one memorable occasion, I declared to my grandmother that I was NOT tired, and wanted to stay up and visit with the company. She took me downstairs and showed me that everybody else was sacked out on the sofa and chairs in the family room. (I realize now that they were all faking!) I reluctantly trudged back up the steps and again declared I was not the least bit sleepy. “Close your eyes and see if you can fool us.”

Well, I fooled them. I slept for  eighteen hours! Apparently, I was the only one in the house who got any rest, as everybody else kept coming in to see if I was still breathing.

I also managed to sleep through a fire drill when I was at Samuel Ready. All I can tell you is that I woke up with my “dungarees” over my pajama bottoms, but everybody was talking about the bells going off, and the fact that we had all gotten up and dressed, and stood outside on the Athletic Field.  Couldn’t prove it by me.


11 Mar

I was trained from childhood to sleep flat on my back. I fold my hands just under my rib cage, and have one leg or the other pulled up like a stork.  And other than switching legs, I seldom move. We have always joked that when I die, all they’ll need to do is straighten out my leg and drop me into my coffin.

This morning, The Squire woke up, smoothed out the covers on his side of the bed, replaced the two decorative pillows, and came over to my side to do the same.  As he leaned forward to put the pillows on my side, he put his hand down to steady himself, smack-dab on my right shoulder! He didn’t even know I was there.

I hate to think what my reaction would have been if that pillow had landed on my face!

Back to Bed

27 Feb

For the last seven years The Squire and I have been reading David Weber’s “Safehold” series. This saga in long and involved, and swings from oared galleys to spaceships, and back, with a World War, a robot, and two romances thrown in. The books are big (600 pages each), and complex. I had to make a list of who was on which side of the war, as I forget who is who. It is essentially a retelling of the Reformation, told from an obviously Protestant point of view. They are published at a rate of one a year, and when the library gets the newest one, there’s a waiting list, so you can’t renew it.  (The first one was Off Armageddon Reef, if you want to track it down. You do need to start at the beginning.)

The odd thing is, I dislike both science fiction (totally implausible!) and historic fiction (you have it all wrong!) but these books are “can’t put it down” stuff. The real thing.

Yesterday, The Squire had the latest book, Like a Mighty Army,  while I was off doing other things, and then when he went up to watch TV, I grabbed it.

And stayed up until 3:00 this morning to finish it!

Woke up at 8:00, said hello to The Squire and back to bed until noon.

For as long as I knew her, my mother’s attitude was “once you are up, you are up for the day”. Even when she was living alone after my dad died, no matter what time she woke up – 4 AM, whatever – she stayed up. This wasn’t too bad for my sister and me during the week, but on weekends, we all wanted to sleep in, and she was really mentally unable to allow us to do so.

Our house was built in 1952, and had only one bathroom, which was right beside my parents’ bedroom, and they slept with the door open. If my sister or I had to get up in the middle of the night, we would carefully close the bathroom door, and stuff a towel against the bottom, so she wouldn’t hear us. If we happened to wake up with a full bladder at 6 AM on a Saturday, she would wake up, and drag herself out of bed, and insist “As long as you’re up, you might as well get your sister.”  Lynn and I could hardly tolerate each other as it was, and this didn’t help matters one bit. And naps were not allowed.

So my poor father couldn’t sleep in, either, and had to deal with three grumpy, sleep-deprived women, to boot.  The man really was a saint.

Not too long before I left home, Lynn and I got an alarm clock, which we would set for 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning, tip-toe downstairs, and then go back to sleep on an empty bladder, staying in bed until around 9:00.

So this morning I was able to go back to bed with a clear conscience and a deep sense of how lucky I am.