Here is Saturday

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Night before last, I couldn’t sleep.  I tossed and turned. I fretted. I wrote letters in my head, held imaginary conversations and stumbled over problems and possible solutions. When worry brought me to the verge of a panic attack, I assessed my symptoms to rule out heart attack. Finally, I got up and made tea. Paced the floor. Fretted some more.

When I was much younger, I often stayed up all night. Sometimes it was worry that caused it; often it was just wanting time to myself, to finish a project or read a book. Now, though my thoughts will often drive me out of bed to walk and think and drink herbal tea in the middle of the night, it is rare when I get no sleep at all.

It’s funny, though…I think I function better now, without sleep, than I did twenty years ago, when a sleepless night would have required a day at home to make up for it, or a day of barely functioning at work.

I was tired yesterday, no doubt, but did not even consider calling in sick to work. For one, we are short-staffed, and if I were home sick, someone else would pay for it, either in having to work alone or having to come in on a day off. Second, I can’t afford to miss work. At this time, this job is contributing to several other endeavors that are not paying their own way. It is also paying my bills. Third, still stressed out, nerves on edge, a day at home would not fix the problem. If I slept, my schedule would be even more messed up; if I didn’t, well…I’d might as well be at work.

Though I was dragging – in body and spirit – I went to work. I took care of customers and answered the phone. I was not cranky. I did some office work to get a pile of discontinued and old merchandise off the current books and out of the way. I put away a new shipment of dog food. I cut glass. I took a short break to go to the post office, bank and re-sale shop.

I picked up some necessities for Aunt Katie and dropped them off on my way home. We had a good visit. Home, Rosa Parks and I went for a short walk through cold rain. I deposited the mail on the desk, fed the little dog and tidied the kitchen. I had cereal and milk for supper. The box toppled, and spilled  cereal onto the floor. Rosa Parks looked pleased, and able to handle it; I didn’t go for the broom.

I was in bed by eight o’clock, nodding off over my book within minutes, and had the lights off   by eight-thirty. Sleeping well.

Now, here is Saturday.

 

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About cindyricksgers

I am an artist. I live on an island in northern Lake Michigan, USA. I have two grown daughters, four strong, smart and handsome grandsons and one beautiful, intelligent and charming granddaughter. I live with two spoiled dogs. I love walking in the woods around my home, reading, writing and playing in my studio.

2 responses »

  1. Oh, the all-nighter. I get that way sometimes too, although most of my all-nighters involve projects I’m unable to leave alone. Into the night and wee hours of the morning, figuring by 3:30 I might as well just start getting ready for work. The day goes by like a surreal imitation of real life. I hope you came up with solutions to what was keeping you up. And good for you for showing up at work after an anxious night.

    • I’m reading “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert. I may have just received some of the best advice of my life from it: “Done is better than perfect.” I’ve got to relax about things so that I CAN get them done…and so that I can sleep! I’m glad you understand. Thanks, Sara!

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