Tuesday, October 09, 2018

The Rough Road to Snoozeville

My wife Jamie, AKA Chigger, AKA Chigs, AKA J.R., has been having some issues lately when it comes to sleeping. I hate it for her. I hate it for anyone. I’ve taken A LOT of things for granted, but sleep is not on that short list. Although I have no idea what insomnia is all about, I have had times when I couldn’t sleep. I have only had small samples of that particular hell, but I know that I wouldn’t want it amplified like The Stones playing a football stadium. I wouldn’t want to have to deal with it every night. And I wouldn’t want anyone but the truly evil people to experience sleepless nights… Like terrorists, AB InBev, and Steve Harvey.

Hell, Steve Harvey probably doesn’t sleep that much anyway. He’s got a lame morning radio show out of Los Angeles. He’s got that horrible syndicated TV talk show airing around the country. Some network TV show where he mines for comedy gold with little kids speaking their minds and doing unspeakable acts like spinning plates or shooting pistols while riding tricycles on two wheels or something like that. And then there’s that horrific ‘Family Feud’ where Mr. One Trick Pony can look into a camera to make his “comedic” reactionary faces along with dropping to one knee as if his heart cannot take yet another idiotic answer from a contestant. Oh yeah, he’s a comedy genius.

My wife has tried turning out lights that I use when walking to the bathroom. I'm afraid of breaking my neck by tripping over something in the dark without the aid of my spectacles. When she does that, my immediate thought is “did the power go out?”.

But lately she has employed a new tactic to get her snoring up to par with mine. She plays music.

Yep, she found some playlist on Spotify and thought she’d give it a shot this past Sunday night. At first, it was kinda new agey, airy, and relaxing. But during the course of the night it got weird… One song sounded as if the digital file had corrupted. It was like someone put on a vinyl record that had been slid on a gravel road for a mile or two. And then there were some Christian hymns that were being played low and slow like “Nearer, My God, To Thee” and “In The Garden”. Of course, hearing the last one actually brought back the first 18 years of my life when I had to attend church every time the doors were open. I know the lyrics and singing along with them in my head caused me to be awake… Just the opposite of what she had intended for herself.

Then last night she found yet another playlist to try. It was better than the previous night’s round of tunes although she did dabble with nature sounds. A babbling brook, the crashing of ocean waves, and one that sounded like a little league game with wildlife yelling at the batter until it was time to “SWING!”. Yeah, that last one had to go. I don’t know if it was her phone’s tiny speaker, but they all sounded rather canned and unnatural.

I really don’t mind, but she’s considerate enough to ask and keep asking even though it’s fine with me. I can fall sleep fairly easy. If falling asleep were an Olympic event I’d be on Subway commercials all the time because of my impressive stack of gold medals. I can fall asleep faster than Michael Phelps can swim ten meters. I can be snoring before Jimmie Johnson can make a lap around the Martinsville Speedway. I can step inside the gates of dreamland before Steve Harvey can make a stupid face on the ‘Family Feud’.

I’m hoping that she’ll get a good night’s sleep real soon and it’s able to continue. She works hard both at her job and around the house. So, if music will be playing during my sleepy time, the dogs and I will just have to deal with it. You know, since the three of us are sleeping like it’s a competition while the Chigs is flopping around looking for some Z’s.

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