I talk about it a lot, but just to give you an idea. The other night, I was getting ready for bed. Sometimes “getting ready for bed” means just tossing off my clothes, getting in the sleep shirt, grabbing a book and getting horizontal. Other nights, it’s more complicated. This particular night was one of those. I had to find the water bottle I keep by the bed, then I had to get more water. Then I had to find my clock. I sleep with a small battery-powered travel clock under my pillow so that I can reach it when I wake up in the wee hours and see what time it is. The light only works when you press the button. In order to facilitate better sleep, there are NO ongoing digital lights in our bedroom–no TV, no radio, no electric plug-in clock. We do have a dual-control heated mattress pad, but the controls for that are turned against the wall so no light escapes at night.
Anyway, I had to find the clock which had slipped away from me somewhere. Then I had to find my nightshades that I use when I want to go to sleep and G is still reading (or as she calls them, my “sleep goggles”). Then I had to put away my laundry that was piled on my side of the bed in order for me to get to the bed. Then I had to brush my teeth. And on and on. During all this, my wheels were turning about the next day, how much work I had to do, what projects I wanted to get organized, people I needed to call or e-mail or whatever. In my travels back and forth from the kitchen, bathroom, living room, front porch, etc., I noticed the light was on in the hallway between the two bedrooms, so on my last trip back from the kitchen with my full bottle of water, just as I went to flip off the light switch for the night, I noticed there was a moth (aka “Miller” in Pueblo) wildly circling the bulb. So, just when I plunged the hallway into darkness, I walked into the bedroom and said, “I wonder when you turn out the light on a moth, do they start screaming, ‘The sun! The sun! It’s gone!! OMG, where is the sun???’ Or do they suddenly think, ‘OMG, I’m going BLIND, BLIND I tell you. AIEEEEE!!!’ Or do they just suddenly stop flying and fall immediately to the ground?” And then I burst into hysterical, maniacal laughter thinking about the absurdity of the entire question.
G slowly lowered the book she was reading and looked at me like she had never seen me before. I was laughing until tears were coming down my face. She just shook her head and made no comment. After all, what could a sane person say to that?
Aren’t you happy with the stuff in your own head now?