I have had the great displeasure of sleeping with myself for the past three nights. I normally have no problem sleeping. I am a sleeper. I could be a professional sleeper. Some background for you. Three and a half years ago my wife’s water broke at 10:00 on a Sunday night. We were watching Curb Your Enthusiasm and out came the floods of the semenal smelling solution. She popped up thinking she had pissed, but the fluid fell out of her as an overturned well bucket full of water would have. I digress. I was sound asleep about two hours later on a cold hospital floor (my mom was on the pull out couch) while my wife lay in labor awaiting the arrival of our first child.
Fast forward just over 24 hours, there I was again, sound asleep as my precious daughter, Kennedy Skye was only an hour old. Snoring away as Laura struggled to breast feed and grasp parenting for the first time. I sleep. I sleep well. I could fall asleep standing up in the middle of a crowded room and get adequate rest.
I have not slept well for the past three nights and my lucidity is taking a toll. Every which way I move my body hurts worse than the previous movement. My skin is bubbling, flaking and scabbing. Last night it hurt the least as I lay in bed awaiting dreams. I drifted off with apathy on the mind. Instantly, it felt instantly, I popped out of bed feeling as though I had been stabbed by thousands of scorching hot needles. My son (whom I slept comfortably after he was new) full on jujitsued me in the back in the thick of my sunburn.
After writhing in pain for what seemed like five minutes or so, I was sleeping again. Then, God decided that a mini-armageddon was to take place forcing me to check the weather to see if I had to take the family and seek solace in the basement. All was well and I slept through the alarm longer than normal. I will sleep tonight. I am a sleeper.
Please to enjoy.