Sleeping

Sleep and I were never friends. We never really saw eye-to-eye on the whole "getting rest" part. Most people go to bed and they fall asleep. Not so with me. I go to bed and I try to log hours. A couple hours here. A couple hours there. Anything I can get, I take.

When most people get tired while they are driving, they press on, turning the radio up a little louder, or rolling down the window. I yank the wheel over to the side of the road and set up camp. Cars are flying past at 70 mph and I’m taking a nap on the shoulder.

Ok, so that was an exaggeration. But seriously, I can’t sleep.

I’ve tried everything; adding and subtracting pillows of varying sizes, taking dangerous combinations of sleep-inducing medication, or imbibing indeterminable amounts of alcohol. Nothing seems to work. Of course it doesn’t help that my bed at home is a concrete slab with a sheet pulled over it.

I’m not exactly a morning person either. I can’t function the first hour or two after the alarm goes off. If I can go that full time without speaking, then I’m ok. Otherwise you’ll probably get an instinctive response that may or may not be offensive to midgets.

My parents and friends think I sleep until way past noon sometimes, because I’ll just stay in my room with the door closed. Trust me, I’m doing everyone a favor. It’s like they expect me to wake up and rush to the door, fling it open, and announce to the world that Jeff is awake. Because after I break that threshold to the rest of the world, I know I have to be at least semi-sociable. I’m not making any promises.


You ever stay up so late that you realize its morning? I have. It happened to me this morning, actually. I’m lying there, wondering why I'm still awake and I look over at the window and there’s sunlight coming through it. Yeah, that can’t be good. At that point I was like, “Well, I’m up any way” and got out of bed for breakfast. I haven’t had breakfast since it was served out of a bottle. Not on time, any way.

So I go into the kitchen and the dog looks up at me thinking, “What the hell are you doing up?” And I’m like “I know.” I’m rooting around in the pantry trying to remember what people usually eat for breakfast. Then I see a Fruit Loops box on the top shelf that my mom got for me a few months ago in hopes that I might actually eat that first meal.

I groggily pour myself a bowl of old cereal with milk and in my deliriousness I decide I’m going to eat it in my room. Have you ever tried hopping across the house with a bowl of cereal? (I wasn't wearing my prosthetic leg) It’s not easy. The dog was thinking, “Jackpot!” though, as I jumped down the hallway, leaving a trail of stale fruit loops behind.


Ok, I have to go. I think I feel a nap coming on.