Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Tylenol PM 1, Noodles O

I take my sleep seriously. My friends know I become progressively less pleasant (some might even say a twee bit bitchy) after 10 p.m. I live and die by 300-thread count Egyptian cotton. And I have, on more than one occasion, excused myself from a social gathering so I could take a nap. (What? Like you haven't?)

My coworker and I were emphatically discussing our mutual love of sleep so deep and sound _ the kind where you Linkfind yourself in one of those hit-the-pillow-and-don't-move a muscle-for-HOURS states _ that I said if we substituted sex for sleep, some people might get turned on listening to us.

All of this is background to establish the fact that when I'm not sleeping well, I'll do almost anything -- ANYTHING -- in my power to return to my happy sleep place. This includes, but is not limited to, the magnificence that is a hefty dose of Tylenol PM.

Which brings me to last night, around 11:30 p.m., roughly two hours after I first crawled into my lovely new, crisp covers. (Btw, my new sheets are the absolute and total bomb.)

There I am, (possibly snoring) when I hear it. Someone is talking and says: "Oh my god."

I jerk awake and open my eyes to see there, standing by my bed is ... HOLY BEJESUS ... a person.

My sleepy, Tylenol PM-addled brain rapidly begins to process this situation as my heart starts beating in overdrive.

Who is it? Duh. Obviously it's someone that's there to kill me and murder me in my sleep. This someone, appears to be unusually skinny and sort of short. And, why are they speaking? Shouldn't they be taking care of business? Are they as distraught about the chaos of exploded clothes in my bedroom as I am? Is that why they said "Oh my god?" Or are they just some weird sleep-watcher, you know, like Edward in Twilight? Do they want to rob me of my oh-so-valuable collection of Amy Butler fabrics? What if they're here to dognap Macy?

Blink. Blink.

I try to focus my very blind eyes at this mysterious, unmoving figure, while laying VERY VERY STILL so they don't know I'm awake.

Blink. Blink.

Something doesn't make sense. Why would a stranger be standing by my bedroom doorway? Much less judge me on my volume of dirty laundry?

Blink. Blink.

Maybe it's not a person.

Blink. Blink.

Maybe it's ... the dressing table? The door? Whatever. Furniture can't speak.

At this point, I'm as wide awake as a tweeked-out-on Tylenol PM person can be, which doesn't say much, although does explain why I have not done the very logical thing of turning on the lights to see who, in fact, this mass murderer is and what they want with cute little me. (OMG, maybe it's a prince who's come to whisk me away to someplace where I can live with the tiara I so rightly deserve... Maybe it's Publishers Clearinghouse?! EEP?! Is there such thing as a Cheese Fairy? A girl can dream...)

Instead, I do what any other dog-loving, lives alone, single girl would do. I look for the mutt.

Who, at the moment, happens to be spooning with me. Snoring.

Blink. Er... blink?

And only then, as my eyes start to focus on what is, in fact, just my dressing table in the moonlight, do I realize that there can't, realistically, be a crazed, psychopathic killer standing at my bedside wielding a cleaver dripping with blood. Or, even a minor European royal who has come at an inopportune time to bring me gifts of brie and gouda. Because, if there was, my dog _ who can't let someone go up or down the condo building stairs without becoming apoplectic _ would have most assuredly thought to bark.

And that voice? The one that woke me up in the first place? Um, yeah. It sort of sounds like me.


And with that, I went back to sleep.

Moral of the story: Tylenol PM may or may not produce night-talking and shadow-fueled delusions. But damn, if it isn't worth it for some Grade A shut eye.


Jessica said...

what kind of sheets did you get? anything getting that kind of compliment deserved to be shared!

Anonymous said...

Between this one and the last post, methinks your dreams are a bit on the vivid side. You aren't perchance, taking any magnesium supplements (or gaviscon or the like?)

Don't you love unrequested medical advice on your blog?

KateKwiltz said...

You mean the Cheese Fairy isn't real???