The cycle

Night. 11:45. The pillow is just not good enough. My neck aches, shooting pain to my temple and down across my shoulder, racing down my arm into my fingers. 12:30. The comforter is too hot, too heavy, oppressive. I whip it off for the relief of cool night air. A welcome breeze from the open window brings the sound of midnight revellers, trotting down the cobble stone street in high heels and heavy boots, shrieking with drunken laughter. 1am. I turn over and accidentally kick Dog 1. He bites my foot in retaliation. 1:30. Now I am too cold. I snuggle under the blanket and for a moment I relax, feeling the sweet release of slumber almost within my grasp. What was it my coworker said to me yesterday? Oh yeah, what did she mean by that? Was she trying to tell me that I was too Oh god I remember a time when my cousin suggested I didn’t have a career plan and that I was wasting my life Did I remember to email that parent about the issue on the playground last Where did I put my mother’s wedding ring? God, if I lose that she will haunt me. I should probably look for that tomorrow, maybe I should check right now? No I am too tired I need to lose at least 10 llbs but how am I supposed to do that if I can’t sleep and I don’t have enough energy to go to the gym Well maybe if I went to the gym I would feel more tired Yeah tried that God I hate being in charge of other people I think I am inherently

2am. Ok, forget it, I’m just gonna stream Grey’s Anatomy on my phone until my body can’t take it anymore and I go unconscious.

Morning. 7am. The bed is so soft and warm. I sleep for 10 minutes more. My eyes pry themselves open, sticky and crusted with sleep gunk. Dog 1 is curled against my belly, jittering slightly in REM sleep. Dog 2 is at my feet snoring peacefully. Husband is downstairs, already washing dishes, having already shaved, showered, possibly even fed and walked the dogs, who then returned to bed without my even noticing. 7:20am. The pillow caresses my face. Nothing has ever felt this good. My day can only go down from here. 7:30am. Coffee is plunked down on my bed side table.

“Good morning,” my weary husband sighs.  “You should really get up hun. I’ve gotta go now. I love you.”

“Mmloveyiu.” I answer. Hand to cup. Cup to mouth. Administer drug.