The Twitching Hour

I slept a little around 11 or so. The husband was watching TV and I snuggled up to him and fell asleep. Mostly asleep. Or something like that. A light sleep, I guess. I could have gone to bed. I was very, very sleepy. I'm very, very sleepy now, too. It seems that I just can't. That I will do anything to stay up even when I don't want to. This is the worst time. It's usually right around now that the trouble starts. I get very sleepy. And then I think up some little thing to keep me busy. Check the futures prices, check foreign markets, balance the checkbook, do some little chore... or blog. I can't seem to make it stop even though I want it to and I am very sleepy. It's at this time that I start thinking how much better my life would be if I slept at night instead of in the day. I start to tell myself that I MUST get ready for bed. And then the panicky feelings start to come in. There is some frantic little something inside that does not like this message. Drugs and alcohol don't even kill that off anymore. I could take sleeping pills, anti-anxiety pills, knock back a brew, and it would still keep going. I know because I've tried it. You wouldn't think so if you could see me, but it would take an elephant tranquilizer to put me down at night. I don't know what to do anymore. So... I guess I will just do what I do. I stripped the bedding and I will now make the bed up with fresh linens. Who cares whether or not the bed really needs changing? I will scrub my teeth and floss them fastidiously. Maybe I will polish them even though they are fine how they are. I will shower. Again. What? I perspired, ok? Pass me that bottle of diet Pepsi, eh? My eyes are threatening to roll back in my head and I'd rather not nod off only to jump up in a bit all dismayed and confused.