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.

 

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.