My fella has started calling me in the morning because I'm having so much trouble not sleep-clicking my alarm to snooze. He doesn't get it; he wakes up and apparently gets up, pees, stretches, does crunches, cleans the fishpond filter, feeds the cats, and still gets to work on time.
What. The. Hell.
I have a fine CPAP machine that I thought was going to make me sleep better, hence magical rested mornings would ensue. Not fucking even. I thought the gasping, choking, and waking every six minutes was the cause of my fatigue. A year later, I'm guessing I was wrong. When I wake up, I'm stiff, my shoulder hurts from lying on it, my hip is showing off a big old charleyhorse apparently from bladder pressure, my feet still do the screamy don't-put-your-weight-on-us-no-No-NOOO thing that gives me my trademark lurch to grab the wall on the way to the bathroom. And my arms are cold. Under the blanket, cold arms. Also, I am often so groggy that I put the coffee back into some random place instead of the freezer. And if I left laundry in the wash overnight that does not contain essential uniform ingredients, the chances I will forget it wet until it begins to stink are 9 to 1.
The cats take varying measures to get me up now that alarm clock lady dog has gone to heaven. Fat girl tends to ball up by my feet and stare at me, assessing my food value if I delay past her to-be-determined deadline. Wild man pops into the house and leaps onto the bed, purring like a tiger with his mouth open, prrrrr-WAAA-prrrrr-WAAA. Then he gets on my stomach and makes purr biscuits with his unclipped claws, which gets my attention fairly well. The cats know to scatter when they do get me up, as I will be unable to miss them with my feet during the inital lurch down the hall.
I tried not taking my neurontin at bedtime (by running out of it like a damn genius) and the result was not pretty; I have work-related nightmares all night when I do not take it and fierce nerve pain and fatigue the next day from waking up every three minutes to go, Aieeeee. Oh. Nightmare. Stop sweating, go back to sleep. Go on, now. Sleep now. Ok, now.
Trying to recall back in the faroff haze of youth, I don't ever remember waking up clean and refreshed. I had a firm mattress and I would wake up hurting, convinced I had not turned once in the night. I used to put telltales on my covers to try to test the theory but would always forget them. Sleeping; I am doin it rong.
What. The. Hell.
I have a fine CPAP machine that I thought was going to make me sleep better, hence magical rested mornings would ensue. Not fucking even. I thought the gasping, choking, and waking every six minutes was the cause of my fatigue. A year later, I'm guessing I was wrong. When I wake up, I'm stiff, my shoulder hurts from lying on it, my hip is showing off a big old charleyhorse apparently from bladder pressure, my feet still do the screamy don't-put-your-weight-on-us-no-No-NOOO thing that gives me my trademark lurch to grab the wall on the way to the bathroom. And my arms are cold. Under the blanket, cold arms. Also, I am often so groggy that I put the coffee back into some random place instead of the freezer. And if I left laundry in the wash overnight that does not contain essential uniform ingredients, the chances I will forget it wet until it begins to stink are 9 to 1.
The cats take varying measures to get me up now that alarm clock lady dog has gone to heaven. Fat girl tends to ball up by my feet and stare at me, assessing my food value if I delay past her to-be-determined deadline. Wild man pops into the house and leaps onto the bed, purring like a tiger with his mouth open, prrrrr-WAAA-prrrrr-WAAA. Then he gets on my stomach and makes purr biscuits with his unclipped claws, which gets my attention fairly well. The cats know to scatter when they do get me up, as I will be unable to miss them with my feet during the inital lurch down the hall.
I tried not taking my neurontin at bedtime (by running out of it like a damn genius) and the result was not pretty; I have work-related nightmares all night when I do not take it and fierce nerve pain and fatigue the next day from waking up every three minutes to go, Aieeeee. Oh. Nightmare. Stop sweating, go back to sleep. Go on, now. Sleep now. Ok, now.
Trying to recall back in the faroff haze of youth, I don't ever remember waking up clean and refreshed. I had a firm mattress and I would wake up hurting, convinced I had not turned once in the night. I used to put telltales on my covers to try to test the theory but would always forget them. Sleeping; I am doin it rong.
Cats are terrible at fully waking people. They're neither heavy enough nor loud enough. They'll also just use the living room carpet if their lame attempts don't wake you. I think you should make your cats buy you a dog.
ReplyDeleteMuch sympathy from a fellow morning lurcher. I had to laugh at the same time as feeling sorry. I do the wall grab, too. Let me know how much the Mexican Adderall is - I want a bag.
ReplyDelete