Sleep is the New Sex

March 30th, 2008

This is a photo of me a couple of years ago. I think I looked damn good considering how damn old I am. But now I just look old. And why? Mainly it’s because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in about 3 years. Added to that is when I watch The Today Show, all I hear is how women need to sleep more. Always said in an accusatory tone, as if we don’t want to sleep. As if it’s a choice. As if we are naughty children who just need to put our jammies on and say night-night. When I hear that, I want jump in the tv and grab whatever expert is currently talking through his or her ass and beat the living shit out of them all around Studio 1A in full view of the carney crowd outside that is braying like a big overfed donkey (am I the only person in America who wishes they could mute The Today Show screamers and sign makers?). Like, what am I supposed to do? Put lavender under my pillow? Think happy thoughts? Meditate? Drink a glass of warm milk at bedtime? Don’t read in bed? Up my thread count? Lower my caffeine/alcohol/fat intake? The big advice, of course, is to HAVE LESS STRESS IN MY LIFE. Do these freaks watch the news? There’s a war in the Middle East. All toys come from China and they’re full of lead. Even Whole Foods frozen edamame comes from China, and if the toys are full of lead, why is there any reason to think the edamame is safe? Planes are late, cancelled, uninspected and overpriced–plus there are never enough overhead bins. There are killer germs everywhere (especially in airport toilets) but we shouldn’t use antibacterial soap. And that roll around my waist? It’s full of cortisol secret agents and dementia time bombs. I had lunch with a friend I haven’t seen in a long time last week. We both discovered that we’ve come to regard our bedrooms as war zones–us against insomnia. When I couldn’t sleep, I used to trail out to my couch in the middle of the night dragging a blanket, a book and a pillow. I made a nest, read, or watched a b/w Bette Davis movie. But then I got rid of my old sagging discount-store overstuffed couch and bought an anorexic showdog. All tobacco-brown linen and lowslung frame and uptown attitude. A bony greyhound of a couch that’s like sleeping on a box of rocks. So now the only place left in my house to seduce sleep is the yard sale chair in my office. It reminds me of the weeks after my lung surgery in 1996 when the only place I could sleep was sitting up on an old wicker chaise lounge I’d found on the street when I was trash picking. It was the best sleep I’ve ever had…because I knew I was recovering, I was going to live, I was in between the stress I used to have and the stress I’d have sometime in the future. I was in a life limbo. And oh yeah, the oxycontine helped too.

2 Responses to “Sleep is the New Sex”

  1. your friend says:

    Yes, a flattering picture.

  2. mary ann says:

    god, you’re funny
    i’m so digging your blog!
    really delighted to have found you.
    gush gush gush
    sorry about the insomnia.

    and the couch.