Yes, I took the sleeping pill. Picture a little devil on one shoulder and a little angel on the other:
Devil (it's my mother): Go on, take it! You know you want to! You need it, honey! It won't hurt you, I promise. Take it! You'll sleep ...
Angel (it's my father): Huh! Whaddaya wanna do that for? So you don't sleep for a few weeks, so what? You think I sleep? I haven't slept a night through since the war! And look at me! Pills ... you don't need pills. Just be strong!
So, Doctor, that's my childhood in a nutshell, and you can tell where I stand by which I one I assigned to be the angel, and which one the devil.
I took the pill. I took it at 9:30, saw the clock at 10:00, and then saw not another thing until the alarm at 6:00. I had no sensation of having slept at all. That's so eerie.
By the time I got up, Hubs was already gone. I showered, dressed, etc. and was almost ready to walk out the door when ... eueueuoeoeoeu ... things are not right. Cold sweat. Barfy. Not not good. It was as if the pill wasn't finished with me yet and who did I think I was, getting up and walking around like that? I called the SCM and told him I'd be in, but later, and put my head down on the new couch pillows while Matt and Katie blathered on. An hour later I got up and went to work.
I was in a brain cloud all day, but not barfy and icky anymore. After I got home I put my head down again while Dr. Phil went on and on, and then I got up, bright and alert. I even went out to Michael's for a few things. Now I feel normal (I do love that word) for maybe the first time in weeks.
Ah, but bedtime looms. What will I do? A half-pill tonight, perhaps. Thanks, mom. Dad, shh.
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I'm watching The Simpsons - an old one
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