After giving up on falling asleep in bed, I got up around 1:30 this morning and came downstairs and knit for an hour or so. At that point, I moved the 15 feet to the couch, put in my earbuds, and listened to music until I fell asleep. I’m guessing the “falling asleep” bit happened around 4.
Time, as it does, passed. I know this because, when my eyes next opened, they opened to a room lit from outside. I attempted to fumble for my phone and my glasses at the same time. Quickly figuring out this was not going to work, I then just fumbled for my phone. Once I figured out I could follow the earbuds cable (that, until I had this epiphany, seemed to exist only to hinder my attempts to find my phone), I was able to check the time: 6:38.
On most days, I intend to wake up at 5AM. I say “intend” not because I fail to get up this early, but rather because I fail to stay in bed this late. Whether it be the feline alarm clock, my bladder, any number of aches and pains, or just my brain saying it was done trying to do the overnight processing and just get up already, I’m almost always out of bed by the time my first alarm goes off at 5. All of this (the feline alarm clock in particular) make my having backup alarms set for 5:15 and 5:30 kind of silly. Even if the cats didn’t get fed at precisely 5:03 AM or my morning meds weren’t taken at exactly the same time they were taken the day before, it’s not like the world would come to an end. (No matter what the cats say. Don’t believe them. They’re masters of propaganda.)
Other than the feeding of the cats and the taking of the meds and the checking of the email, part of my morning routine is playing human alarm clock for G. Yes, he’s perfectly capable of setting his own alarms and getting out of bed all on his own. But, it’s kind of nice to have a minute or two just as he’s waking up to say hi before his brain fully engages in “work day” mode.
On Mondays, my human alarm clock duties are supposed to be invoked at 6AM. Thus, when my eyes were finally able to focus on the glowing 6:38 on my phone screen this morning, I immediately went into panic mode. I resumed fumbling for my glasses, which were not where I had left them on the side table prior to falling asleep, but were, instead, under said table. (I suspect I have Sprocket to thank for that.) Glasses on my face (after only one attempt to put my earpiece in my eye), I tried to bolt out of the couch, but ended up getting further tangled in the blankets wrapped around my legs. Once I managed to extricate myself from the blankets, I decided I didn’t want to risk re-engagement with the treacherous thing to unearth my slippers, which were undoubtedly beneath the piles of cloth.
I attempted to dash upstairs, but was hindered by any number of physical factors. I couldn’t feel the left side of my body. My lower back was screaming at me. My bladder was making its discomfort be known. My head was pounding. All of these things forced me to stop at the base of the stairs, at which point my brain engaged enough to realize that I could hear water running, meaning G was in the shower. At this point, I assumed a more reasonable pace and finally made my way to master bath, where I confirmed G was in the shower. I may have startled him a bit with my abject apologies to him, volume tuned to reach him over the sound of the falling water. He assured me all was well, and that he’d fed the cats, and that everything was ok.
After apologizing another time or three, I made my way to the kitchen, grabbed a Coke from the fridge, and flopped into my seat at the dining table. I spent some time letting my heart rate return to normal. I massaged my hip, attempting to get some sensation to return to my left side. I quickly gave up on this, since attempting to perform massage with a hand that is also free of sensation is kind of pointless.
Frustrated, I dropped my head forward. The momentum of this was enough to suddenly push my chair back enough to allow my head to drop forward more than I’d intended, and my forehead hit the dining table. I decided it was probably best to just leave it there for a while, and did so.
Thus far, I have no reason to believe it’s not going to be one of those days. Damn it to heck.