They used to call them the small hours of the morning. 2, 3, 4 am…. small numbers, big eyes. All night long, I am up and down, rolling over, blankets on, blankets off, unable to sleep. Brain churning. Too late? Too early? To take a sleeping pill. Tomorrow–.today is going to be hell.
The talk radio inside my head gets especially loud in the small hours. I replay scenarios from the day, 10 years ago, my childhood, and ones that haven’t happened yet. I worry. I fret. I’d bite my nails but I gave up that habit decades ago.
What to do? It always starts with What should I do? The answer is Damned if I know, but I try nonetheless. Turning ideas over and over, toying with them, sometimes eviscerating them much like a cat with a half-dead mouse.
That was gross. I think there’s a mouse in my kitchen. He comes about now, I think. Every morning about this time, I hear the cat skittering about the kitchen. She hasn’t caught him yet. Caught her? Whatever.
Does the gender of mice matter? I suppose it does. Females multiply but then again they can’t do it without a male. Two mice? Ten? Am I overrun?
Just stop it.
Rearrange the bedding. Straighten the sheets and the comforter. The Dachshund is excited to be out of bed already. Dismayed when we get back in.
Ratty t-shirt and yoga pants. There’s a drawer full of pajamas and nightgowns and nightshirts, but here I am in these sad yoga pants and t-shirt. Comfort clothes, I suppose.
Is that like comfort food? I could go for a grilled cheese about now. Made with Velveeta. Laugh if you want. it makes a superior grilled cheese. Wheat bread. A ton of butter.
No wonder my thighs jiggle. I have to lose this weight. I feel like an imposter. Look in the mirror and wonder who that woman is.
Did I iron my clothes for work? I can’t remember. Do not get up to check. Do not get up to check, Do not get up to check.
Yes. I remember now. Just after my shower. I hope they fit. It’s going to be a rushed morning.
I could get up now. 3:17. No. Too early.
Roll over and disturb the Dachshund who grumbles then licks my face. Dog Germs! As Lucy would have said.
I do love my dogs, but they make a mess of my house. Did I leave them water? Is there water in their bowl?
3:19 I get up and stumble downstairs. I don’t want to turn the lights on because that will really have me awake. I have got to get some sleep.
Yes, water in the bowl.
I could do the dishes.
That usually puts me in avoidance behavior and a nap, but not today. 3:23 and I’m loading the dishwasher.
I could mop the floor. It’s pretty disgusting.
I sit on the couch wishing I’d just gone ahead and made coffee.
The dogs sit next to me.
I could go for a grilled cheese. Do I have bread?
I get up to look.
There goes that idea. Need to grocery shop.
Almost 4. I could go ahead and start my day. 4 isn’t so bad. Jung said it was the number of completion.
I get up. Let the dogs out. Make coffee.
Sit at my desk.