I have a rather debilitating case of insomnia. For the past few years, I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time either staring at the sticky glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling or watching Love it or List It on HGTV, which is why I’m somewhat of an expert on Toronto real estate. After discussing my malady with the doctor, I was prescribed a certain sleeping pill that, for the most part, works like a charm. Twenty minutes before I want to be asleep, I simply place the pill on my tongue, flush it down the throat with water, and voila! Sleepy-go-night-night.
The other night I took my pill and continued to read a really interesting political article on the internet that expanded my views on global economics. (It was some mommy blog.) I don’t remember what happened after that. When I opened the computer the next day, it indicated that I had been watching cute puppy videos on YouTube. Who knows.
My husband says I went upstairs at a reasonable hour, dove headfirst into bed, and then did the craziest thing. I professed my undying love. To my husband. How embarrassing. Apparently, there was a lot of giggling and cuddling. At some point, I drifted off to sleep, and not surprisingly, slept like a rock.
I do not remember this, which is disconcerting. Who knows what else I’ve been doing when I thought I was sleeping? Raiding the fridge? Taking the dog for a walk? Online shopping? Professing my undying love to Timothy Olyphant on his Facebook page? If I’m capable of professing my undying love to my husband, well. Anything’s possible.
The whole incident left me completely unnerved, so this evening, I decreased the dosage by half, which is why it’s 1:00am and I’m sitting here writing this post.
I may have to give up my little white pill of happiness. I’m not cool with my giggly subconscious running things. Next step? Warm milk and a Benadryl because Ambien, well. It’s a helluva drug.