SLEEPLESS

Is there a difference between being an insomniac and being a night owl?

Definitely. One is torture and the other is joyous. I speak from a lifetime of experience. I go both ways (no sexual implications intended).

I've been nocturnally inclined for as long as I can remember. I always feel most alive between the hours of midnight and dawn. 

So where is this blog post going? Nowhere. I merely thought this was a good opening.

My present sleep "schedule" is simple:
I go to bed around dawn, then get up in about three or four hours to start my day.

That's undoubtedly why I feel comatose all day......and usually look like I died six weeks ago. But that's beside the point.

Unfortunately, the cats get up at dawn and eagerly (not to mention impatiently) wait for me to get out of bed.

Scruffy periodically climbs onto my chest and stares (two inches away from my face), just to make sure I'm still breathing.

 

Bosco is more aggressive. He eagerly (and frequently) pounces on the bed (and sometimes on me) to deliberately get me up.

So why don't you close the bedroom door and keep the cats out, Jon?

Because Bosco stays by the door and scratches the hell out of it when it's closed. I'd rather have a pouncing cat than a scratching cat. Maybe.


But, the cats are the least of my problems. 

Birds and squirrels clamor over the (metal) roof at dawn, making loud noises that jar me awake.

The birds are trying to build nests.
The squirrels are......
........who the hell knows....
looking for acorns??? 

So early this morning I had been asleep for about eight blessed minutes when the phone rings.

I stumble out of bed and crawl into the kitchen (that's where the landline phone is).

"Hello?"

Nobody responds. All I hear is lots of static. The last time I experienced that much static, it was coming from my hair on an extremely dry summer day in San Angelo, Texas.

Ponder that for awhile. It might eventually make some sense. 

Anyway, I finally hear a very weird voice with an extremely thick accent (East Indian, maybe?), informing me that I won a prize.

"Did you get the letter about the prize?" they ask. (I can't discern if this person is a he or a she) 

"Letter?? I don't give a damn about a letter. And to hell with the prize. Just send cash."

I hang up abruptly. 

There's no satisfactory end to this story - and no plausible reason for writing it. I just wanted to share my morning with you.  

I won't mention the never-ending back pain that I have.

Or the fact that a recent storm prompted the weeds to grow about five feet overnight.

Or that three cats can't seem to catch one mouse.

 Recent Rain...

...and hail...

By the way, my cat Kitzee (also known as Scratch) would rather sleep in the morning than waste her time trying to wake me up.

 

DRINK DRANK DRUNK

I've been plagued with the same problem ever since I was in my teens.

You mean drinking, Jon?

Hell, no. Drinking isn't a problem. It's a pleasure. I'm talking about insomnia. Acute insomnia. Tossing, turning, thinking, agonizing, worrying, listening to the grandfather clock chime every hour and half hour from midnight until 6:00 a.m.

By dawn, I'm hanging by my toes from the ceiling while emitting primal screams. 
This absolute absence of shuteye happens every time I know I have to get up and go somewhere.

Today I had to make the dreaded drive into town - which means having to navigate an ENDLESSLY harrowing roller coaster track of narrow, winding mountain roads. 
Try doing that when when you have a crack in your windshield, and your old contact lenses keep fogging up so badly that everything looks like the coast of Newfoundland at dawn on a bad day.

Why don't you get the crack fixed, Jon?

Because I'd rather spend the money on booze so I have the courage to drive to town.

Why don't you try soft contact lenses?

I'm wearing soft contacts, Kemo Sabe. And I'd have better vision if I wore a pair of x-ray glasses from an ad in a Superman comic book. I'm thinking of switching back to gas permeable.

To make matters worse (if that's humanly possible), the weather was against me.

You mean it rained again?

Nope. The sun appeared. Let me expound: 
Here in rural Tennessee it rains nearly every day of the year. The sun is more rare than Hillary telling the truth.
(I deliberately threw that in to piss off my readers).

Today, as I got in my car and ventured out on the mountain road, the clouds miraculously cleared, the sun came out, and the temperature in my unairconditioned Hellmobile soared to 380 degrees.

So, I was not only sightless but also perspiring profusely. Not to mention drunk.

Jon, you're a DOA just waiting to happen.

Well, I wasn't exactly drunk. I merely had enough beer to expunge my apprehension, stunt my reflexes, and inspire me to sing a medley from South Pacific.

By the time I got to the Walmart parking lot, I was sweating like a Tijuana whore during a Saturday night gangbang, and marveling at the fact that I knew all the words to Bali Hai.

Did anything good happen to you today, Jonathan?

Yes! As I was pushing my way through the moping mob of ample-assed, unwashed hillbillies I suddenly saw a sign that brought joy to my dismal existence. 
VACUUM CLEANERS WERE ON SALE!!!

I used to have three vacuum cleaners - two massive Hoovers and a small Dirt Devil. These were among the 100 or so items that the movers "lost" when I came to Tennessee.

These marked-down Walmart dirt suckers were a gift from God. I grabbed one.

That left me with no money to buy the new tile for my two bathroom floors, but I'll go back to town and buy that next week. Fortunately I stocked up on enough beer to make mountain road navigation a breeze. 

I have more to say but I'll save it. Too much of a good thing can be dangerous. 

Oh, one more thing before I go. My cell phone STILL isn't working - - in case you try to text (family & friends). I'll get it straightened out soon.


http://cabinetofcurioustreasures.blogspot.com 

CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT

Listen to them, the children of the night.
What music they make!

Dracula
Bram Stoker

I've been nocturnal for as long as I can remember - - and when I try to sleep, I'm a hopeless insomniac.

Hungarian heritage? Possible vampirism?? It's undoubtedly something in my blood (no Dracula puns intended). Some people rise and shine with the morning sun. I don't feel alive until after dark. I'm never fully awake until midnight. I dread daybreak.

So where am I going with this subject?
Absolutely nowhere. It simply crossed my mind tonight, during a several-hours-long battle with insomnia.

I went to bed extremely early tonight - which means before midnight. My Big Plan (capitalized for emphasis) was to drive to town. This wasn't intended to be a pleasure excursion, but rather a necessary one. I need a new vacuum cleaner. Pronto.

The more I tried to sleep, the more I turned and tossed. The more I tossed and turned, the wider awake I became. The wider awake I became, the more I dreaded the agonizing prospect of piloting those excruciatingly endless winding mountain roads.

My back hurts, Big Time. I also have a monumental kink in my neck (had it for days). Probably should buy new pillows, along with the vacuum cleaner. 

Bosco was hogging all the covers. No need for alarm. Bosco's a cat. Not a lover. (just thought I'd clear that up in case you were in doubt)

Come to think of it, I probably did have a lover named Bosco somewhere along the line - - long ago during my reckless whiskey and hashish days..... Or was that Bozo?
(sometimes I like to throw in an unexpected punch, just to knock my critics for a loop) 

An owl was emitting spooky Halloweenish hoots near my bedroom window. At least I think it was an owl....

I finally got up, went into the kitchen, made a sandwich and a cup of coffee. At 3:00 a.m. 
Caffeine is the last thing I need. I'm already wired for sound.

At around 4:00 a pack of coyotes wandered in from the forest just behind the house - howling, yelping, growling, shrieking with demonic enthusiasm. 

There were a lot of them, much more than usual, and they came very close to my back door. I turned on the back porch light. When they finally moved to a safer distance, I stepped outside to have a look. They were already just a murky blur in the darkness.

When the coyotes are very close in large numbers, their presence is blood-curdling - - not to mention goose bump inducing - - but I love the excitement. There's an intoxicating satisfaction about being alone in the wilderness at night. It lends romance to nocturnality and intrigue to insomnia.

Spell Check informs me that nocturnality doesn't exist. I say bullshit! Look in the dictionary. Spel czech iz rong!!

So, where was I?

It's nearly dawn now and I'm still not sleepy. My Big Plan for Wednesday has been thwarted by insomnia. I can't go on Thursday, due to predicted Big Storms (capitalized for emphasis). The vacuum cleaner will have to wait. And I have no regrets.

I'm going back to bed.


Afterthought:
This crappy post probably shouldn't have been written. If you'd rather see pictures, check out my two previous posts.

 

BOSCO BY MOONLIGHT

Dazzled by the full moon's interpretation of daylight, Bosco watches in amazement and wonders why he's confined indoors. He is unaware of persistent hard frost and intermittent snow. The window has beckoned him during momentary cloudbreak - when moonlight drenches frozen landscape with stunning illumination.

The other two cats sleep, blissfully snoring, unaware of my chronic insomnia and heavy burden of thoughts. Thought is perpetuated by the silent midnight hours, inspired by momentary glimpses of moonglow.

The February full moon. Snow Moon, as it's called. I went outside, much earlier, as it was rising. The deep forest was shrouded in low fog, but the moon was brilliant and white just above the grasping reach of naked treetops.

As I absorbed the moon's beauty, coyotes howled very nearby. The announcement of their presence startled but didn't scare me. I've grown used to it. They have their territory, I have mine. We respect one another.

The hunters have no respect. The sharp, echoing sound of their rifles occurs quite often and still unnerves me to some extent. Tuesday afternoon was enhanced with showers of light snow. I went outside to watch the strikingly red cardinals. The sudden shots of the hunters was too close for comfort. The birds scattered. I hurried back indoors. I can only hope that the hunters have good eyesight and remain reasonably sober.

And me? I'm still existing in a mild state of confusion - - with too many things and nowhere to put them. The house is chaotic. The garage looks like an explosion at a junk yard. I have a stomach virus and a lethargic attitude. I've put a Hungarian pox on the entire process of moving. And my movers. My missing possessions, so far, have not been found.

But enough of annoying reality. These frozen, moon-drenched midnight hours are reserved for respite and rumors of dreams.

Bosco, in the mesmerizing custody of the moonlit window, fully realizes this.