Thursday, January 27th, 2011

When I slide into a bed heavy with quilts on a cold winter night and curl up for my voyage to the land of nod, the thought that runs through my head should not be: Oh crap, am I going to have a sleepless night? Because when it is, chances are pretty good that it will be one of those nights, and as much as I enjoy finding extra time to catch up on my reading, or writing more drivel, the middle of the night is not where I want to find it. I want to find sweet slumber. I want to enjoy the sonorous rhythm of My Darling B’s respiration, or even her snoring. Mostly, I’d like to be sawing some lumber myself. But no.

The trouble began the moment I laid down and my stomach went Urp! I’d half-expected that because, between you, me and the lamp post, I ate a little too much at dinner, but it was such a delectable meal and I was enjoying such delightful company that I didn’t want it to end so I kept packing it away, even though a nagging voice in the back of my mind warned me that I’d probably end up on the sofa at one in the morning, telling you about it. And here we are, just as predicted. I wish I could do that with the winning lottery numbers.

I dozed for about an hour, waking every five minutes or so to the thud of my pulse playing my gut like a timpani drum. The pounding grew stronger each time I woke until I finally gave up trying to sleep and rolled out of bed, just as the clock struck midnight.

Every time I do this, I promise myself I’ll cut the portion in half next time. The thing was, it was a surprisingly reasonable portion, very much unlike the heaping helping most restaurants routinely dump in front of me. One look at it and I thought, That is exactly as big as I am hungry! and I tucked into it like a dog at his dish. A big dog, with a dish of Alpo. Nom.

I didn’t realize I’d overdone it until we were home again and enough time had passed that I realized my innards were never going to digest all that food before lights out. Too late to do anything about it by then but dose myself with Pepto and wait for the growling to stop. Too bad I didn’t think of that before I went to bed, but I really hated to sully such a fine meal by topping it off with a shot of Pepto-Bismol. This is one of those cases where “Better late than never” just doesn’t apply, though.

Note to self: Halve the portion next time. No, really. Do it.

Urp | 1:37 am CDT
Category: daily drivel | Tags:
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