Ah, Sweet Sleep

The Days of My Fog

This week I took Fiona in for her latest round of pokes from our nice doctor and left with my own prescription. I am now officially under doctor's orders to regularly get seven hours of sleep per night. Seven hours - in a row. I don't know why he felt compelled to intervene on this. Maybe it was when the tears started with the question, "So are there any issues we need to discuss about Fiona?" and didn't stop until he left the room quite a while later. Maybe it's the shadows under my eyes that are as dark as the night that clued him in. Possibly it was when he witnessed Fiona's passionate insistence to be nursed when she heard he and I discussing its foreseeable end. Whatever the reason, our doctor said I either need to leave the house for two weeks or the family needs to gear up for a rough month while we convince Fiona of the new rules. Put on your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, we're in for a bumpy ride.

Debt Reduction

Like many people, Allan and I feel the drain of fatigue on an on-going basis. I just read a little about sleep debt. Wikipedia says, "...it [evaluating sleep debt] involves relaxing quietly and alone for a short amount of time. If the feeling of sleep comes fairly easily, one is considered to have sleep debt." Since it takes me all of about ten seconds to fall asleep at night, I figure I must qualify, according to this measure. A while back I was intrigued by Jason's plan to get to bed early for one month. I like staying up late, despite the cost of exhaustion the next day. It seems to have taken its toll on me lately, though. So this week Allan and I are going to bed by 10:30 each night. We're on our third night, but frankly, I feel more sleepy (and I'm afraid grumpy) than ever. I know, I know - it takes more than a few days to make up for a year of interrupted sleep. Ack! I better run - 10:29 p.m. Good night!