I’m a hug fan of sleep. Siesta, doze, nap, zonked. Sleep is right up
there with caramel brownies and buttered popcorn.
Sadly, sleep does not feel the
same way. In fact, sleep has a bit of a foul attitude toward me. It makes an
appearance and then teases me with a ‘catch me if you can’ taunting.
The sway of Ambien gives me
leverage over sleep and yet my brain gives fatigue a heck of a fight. Who’s gonna win? Who’s gonna win? Who’s gonna
win?
Old black water, keep on rollin'
Mississippi moon, won't you keep on shinin' on me.
Mississippi moon, won't you keep on shinin' on me.
Brain! Stop talking. Stop talking.
Stop talking.
I need to pay bills tomorrow.
Did I order checks?
Good heavens, I’m having a
hot flash! Did I forget to turn the air conditioner down? That reminds me, I
need to call the doctor tomorrow and schedule a pap smear.
Yeah, keep on shinin' your light
Gonna make everything, pretty mama
Gonna make everything all right
Gonna make everything, pretty mama
Gonna make everything all right
What was that noise?
Did I lock the door?
I'd like to hear some funky Dixieland
Pretty mama come and take me by the hand
By the hand, take me by the hand pretty mama
Come and dance with your daddy all night long
Pretty mama come and take me by the hand
By the hand, take me by the hand pretty mama
Come and dance with your daddy all night long
I
love Elvis Presley.
Oh,
I’m getting sleepy. Is tomorrow Tuesday?
I
think I’m getting sleepy.
I
did take my Ambien. Didn’t I?
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