Insomnia

Those of you out there whom have had the pleasure of sharing living spaces with me for extended periods of time probably know what a fragile sleeper I am.  I wouldn't say I have full blown insomnia by any means.  To say that would be an insult to all of those poor saps who really have it.  I do get good nights of sleep fairly regularly.  But that doesn't mean I can't bitch and moan about the hand of cards that I got dealt though.

Growing up, I had the pleasure of having the bedroom underneath the stairs.  No it was not as bad as Harry Potter's closet, it was actually quite big, but under the stair case nonetheless.  Every morning I got to wake up to my father's descent which sounded more like a bag of potatoes being tossed down in fast forward.  Good thing I wasn't drinking yet so I never had to wake up to that hung over.

In college, I was always jealous of the people who could sleep almost on command, somehow hypnotizing themselves into a deep slumber in the middle of the day.  This meant that not only could I not join them but that I had to be quiet at the same time.  I recall spending entire nights awake listening to my roommate's fish tank water cycler tinkle because an inch of water had evaporated out, or the sound of an un-eaten rogue cricket in the terrarium of the gecko he was watching for a friend, or the sound of his dog smacking her lips until the wee hours of the morn.  (sorry to use you as an example Al, no hard feelings)

These were common sounds and occurred relatively frequently, yet they only kept me up on occasion.  My problem is purely psychological.  I can sleep fine in a construction site if I needed, jack hammers jacking and all!  What happens to me is that as soon as the thought, "this ____ is going to keep me up" enters my head, I am doomed to spend the night tossing and turning until some ridiculous hour.  

Naps, oh man, I have a strange relationship with them.  Rarely do I actually fall completely asleep during a nap.  It is more of a limbo between consciousness and sleep.  My body lays still and my vital signs probably mimic those of one at rest and yet I remain eerily conscious of my surroundings.  Cars starting, doors closing, ambiguous chatter from passer-bys all register with me.  One thing that amazed me about naps was that when ever my college girl friend would spend the night at my place I would get terrible sleep (no, not because of that), but when she would come over the next day in the middle of the day for a nap we would sleep as soundly as a grandpa in a coma.

I also wake up early in the morning pretty frequently.  I usually just end up going back to sleep and, of course, am in the deepest most pleasant sleep when my alarm wakes me up to go to work.  According to wikipedia, this means I am clinically depressed.