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From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

Traditional Scottish Prayer

It is 430AM and I can’t sleep.

This happens from time to time. I wake at 3AM or so to take a leak and then discover my mind won’t shut back down. It begins flitting around in that hummingbird way it has, thinking about the most extraordinary things all non sequiturs . For no good reason my restless cortex keeps playing “Close Every Door” sung by Donny Osmond.  I am sure Mr. Osmond is a fine fellow, but he is highly annoying when one wants to sleep.

Harper is no help. She’s done a slow takeover of my sleeping territory.  Only grudgingly she returned to her proper post at the foot of the bed. Just as I was beginning to shoo away Mr. Osmond, Harper jumped right up alert – on my legs. There was outside in the distance a cacophony of animal noises resembling an orchestra of scorched cats. I suspect they were coyotes. Whatever, Harper needed out to investigate.

Another attempt to return to sleep was thwarted by the decision of my innards to remind me I ate Mexican last night. The conga line of cramps was only partially elevated by some TUMS.

Then I started to itch…….

So that’s that.

One of the basic rules of insomnia is if you can’t fall asleep within 15 minutes you get up/out of bed. I am up and at’tem at 430AM. After all, there is work to be done, which is probably why my brain hired Mr. Osmond in the first place – to get me going on this weekend’s tasks.

This evening we attend the ballet and it is already a bust. I will have to take a disco nap and find some coffee if I am to have any chance of staying awake.

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