11:00 last night. I realize it’s late and I go to bed.
11:00-1:00. I toss and turn, sleeping lightly and waking up too hot.
2:00. My husband and I are woken up by Anastasia, our ferret, who has mysteriously gotten out of her cage. Although it’s also possible that I forgot to close the second ferret cage door. Either way, now I’m really awake.
2:00-4:00. I fail to return to sleep, though I am earnestly trying. All the little tricks in my repertoire. I’ve never counted to 500 before.
4:00-5:00. I relocate to the couch and read a novel. Locked Rooms by Laurie R. King, mainly in preparation to read, at last, The Language of Bees, which I’ve been saving for just the right time.
Around 5:00. I make myself a snack of a cup of tea and some Nutella on toast and read some more. Insomnia is almost not bad when absolutely nothing relies on one’s being alert later.
Between 6:00 and 7:00. I turn out the light just as the sun is rising.
7:00-10:00. The next time I look at the clock, three hours have gone by. I think I slept through them, but the last twelve hours, by now, have been too hazy for me to be sure.
And with that nightmare of a night’s sleep behind me, I’m going to bed now to try again.
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