Once upon a time, there were at least eight glorious hours of uninterrupted sleep. Turning off the bedside light at night was the last I saw before the sun sneakily streamed through the curtains in the morning. Stretching and yawning without a care in the world, I would sleepily make my way out of my bedroom and the only thought at that time would be whether to have vegemite or marmalade on my toast.
Those were the days.
Whatever happened to those days? It is like a distant (very distant) memory from a past life.
Let’s take a look at a few things. In the last few days, it’s been pouring with rain and we’ve had the worst rainfall in over 18 years. We have been lucky to have no leaks or damage to our property and relatively no significant repercussions, unlike so many people.
What I’m getting at is, usually on rainy nights I absolutely love the fact that I’m cosy, warm and dry inside, listening to the rain and feeling so comfortable. It makes for really good writing, reading and relaxing. So actually, it should make me relaxed and in a good space for a really good sleep.
My gripe on this day is: why, for the past two days, when I’ve been warm as toast, comfortable in bed, dry and safe would I by experiencing poor quality sleep.
Hmmm. I have to admit, I love listening to rain as I fall asleep. It’s so comforting to know that you are safe and sound and outside is wet and cold. So, why did the sound of the rain keep me awake for two nights?
I feel like I’ve been ripped off. I want a refund on those two nights please. I was supposed to be blissfully asleep in slumber land. Instead I was in ‘turning over restless land’. The sound of the rain annoyed me and didn’t soothe me as it usually would. Why is this so?
Am I not entitled to feel that undeniable feeling of knowing I’m as snug as a bug anymore? What about the long day I just worked and all the morning and afternoon rituals? Don’t I deserve to have a continuous, quality induced sleep? The thoughts streamed through.
As I lay there, totally warm and cosy with the ‘perfect’ atmosphere for sleeping, I still can’t get away from the fact that I’m awake! It’s way too early to get up. If I start writing now, I’ll be in no state to go to work in 5 hours time. So what do I do?
Of course, whilst planning different things for the day and writing a mental grocery list, I wait another three hours for my alarm to go off and instead of dragging myself out of bed 15 minutes later like I usually do, I’m sitting up, slippers on, and tiptoeing in the dark to start the day.
Well, after my morning ritual of petting the cat, eating breakfast and having a cup of tea, I then make the lunches. All this was before 6:30am. I catch up on the latest Facebook posts that came through overnight and then it hit me. ‘I’ll make dinner!’
Being so pleased with myself, I got to work. I started by peeling potatoes and carrots, cutting pumpkin and onions and then cutting up the meat. Yes, I did say meat – and it is only 6:35 in the morning for goodness sake!
I decide a nice slow cooked meal would do the trick on a rainy, cold night. All day at work, I had that smug inner smile that said, ‘dinner is already cooked’. It really did put a smile on my face at random times during the day, in between yawning.
The family enjoyed the meal and devoured a long crusty loaf of bread with it.
It wasn’t until after dinner that the thought of facing another restless night invaded my thoughts. Sooooo, as swiftly as I could, I pulled out all makings for a potentially good night’s sleep. Out came the electric blanket. Tick. A warm shower. Tick. The oil burner with lavender aromatherapy oil burning. Tick. Reading a good book. Tick. Chamomile tea. Tick.
I could hardly wait to get into my cosy bed. It was looking good. All signs pointed to a peaceful sleep.
What can I say, I turned out the bedside light and with the alarm sounding the next morning, I think that I might have had the best sleep since…maybe another lifetime ago.
Find Gillian in a busy cafe or street, scoping the prospect of characters in her latest book.
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