No Fools Allowed
By Along the Way on July 10, 2014
It occurred to me today that I am sleep-deprived.
Oh, I know of plenty of people who get along with what I consider to be little to no sleep. But I like to sleep, and since last September I have managed to sleep almost all night, every night, with a few "power surge" moments here and there. There are a few notable exceptions where I have not slept all night, but they are rare. For the most part, I sleep well. My shoulder doesn't ache from being jammed up against someone (the kittens don't count; they like my legs). I don't have a blast furnace next to me, except sometimes for Solomon the brick kitty. And I'm not listening for anyone breathing except the kittens, and they don't snore (much). So my quality of sleep has actually improved.
The thing is, I also like to stay up late. But since there seems to be a conspiracy between the kittens and the birds hunting bugs against the windows to wake me up BEFORE 6AM, I need to go to bed earlier than I have been. Why I keep staying up so late I have no clue. It's not as if I don't know what time it is.
I used to be a night owl, but many years of marriage and a demanding job in retail changed my tune long ago. It's not as if I don't have solitude, peace and quiet during the day or even the later evening - my cousin is not around much and when he's here he generally is in his room watching TV or working on his laptop. And he gets up super early so he generally goes to bed before 9. So really, after 7pm or so, I have plenty of quiet leisure time. You would think that whatever games I want to play, or books I want to read, could be adequately dealt with in the two hours or so between 7 and 9. Then I could play a rousing game of kitty fishing to tire out my little darlings so they don't do the grand prix across the bed at 3am, brush my teeth, clean the kitty box and go to sleep. But no.
I sit up in bed and play another game of Spider Solitaire, or piddle on Pinterest, or read something. I think it's because I CAN, and no one is telling me to turn off the light (except my common sense). And the next thing I know it's 11:30 and by golly the birds are going to be at it in about six hours. And I need to get up, get out and walk before it gets too hot to breathe.
Then I sit in the office and wonder why I am not focusing on all the things I could be doing and should be doing to look after this business, and I just want to take a nap and am I bored or am I just sleepy? I have plenty to do; why am I aimlessly browsing here and there and not taking a training class to use the technology I am paying for? What makes more sense, taking an hour to look online for a headboard for the guest room which is full of stuff I have to sort out, or actually setting aside a half hour to sort through the stuff? Which is more productive, going through client files and marking the ones which are inactive, or reading my bazillion emails from people wanting me to buy something?
Does it really make a difference whether I actually call my follow-up clients who have been on my list for six weeks or so? (the answer is YES, yes it does). So why do I keep putting it off? Because I need to go to bed earlier and get some sleep so I will be focused and alert and remember the things I need to do, instead of confusing clients who have the same first name but very different last names and making myself look like the worst kind of clueless bimbo and not making a good impression AT ALL. I need to do what the index card on my bathroom mirror says and elevate my game.
The funny thing is, my husband made me write that card after I had made a stupid careless mistake. You know, like the one I just made. And it really chapped my backside at the time, but I did it anyway. And I can still hear his voice telling me that because he said it a lot. He said it to spur me on to what I could do rather than the less-than-excellent half-hearted effort I was trying to get away with.
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