NotJustAHatStand

I have real trouble sleeping on a Sunday night. It's probably a combination of sleep patterns getting messed up over the weekend, the prospect of another working week, and thoughts along the lines of 'it's Sunday night, I never sleep well on a Sunday'. Any other night I happily pass out not long after my light goes off. But not a Sunday, and most especially not the Sunday after a busy weekend involving two very late nights.

Last night was particularly bad. I read for a while, and snuggled down in the lovely fresh sheets about 11.45. The Boy was already asleep (as, freak that he is, he gets up at 6am to go to the gym before work). I lay, yawning, listening to his deep breathing. He started snoring gently. I was still wide awake. I did my first check of the clock.

Midnight.

I figured out that if I went to sleep in the next fifteen minutes, I'd get exactly seven hours sleep before I had to get up.

Fifteen minutes later, the Boy was still snoring, and I was even more wide awake than I had been half an hour before, because I was thinking about it too much. Like when you go to type in your PIN number at the cash machine - if you stop and think about it too much you can't remember the number.

I tried to turn over, away from the noise from his flapping tonsils, and remembered that I'd walked into a door handle that day, and bruised my ribs. Ouch.

By now it was 12.30, and I was starting to get ratty. Less than seven hours sleep, but only if I went to sleep in the next fifteen minutes!

I started doing yoga breathing (in through the nose, out through the mouth), and picturing the sea gently lapping the shore of a beautiful white beach. I felt myself getting a bit sleepy....

Then, 'nnngggghhhh', a loud grunting snore from His Nibs.

I gave him a gentle nudge* but he didn't stir. The last time I remember looking at the clock was about 1am. (If I go to sleep NOW, I'll get 6 hours!)

Then, bang on 5am this morning (a full 2 hours and 15 minutes ahead of schedule!) I woke up.

Ting! 'Good Morning!' Said my brain. And that was me.

I lay quietly for a while, trying not to lie on my sore ribs, hoping that I'd drop off again. Then the birds started with the singing. Then the Boy's alarm started going. Then HE jumped out of bed, refreshed after a good night's sleep, and happily skipped off for his workout.

Meanwhile I stumbled into work late (because of COURSE I fell asleep just before MY alarm went off), bleary eyed and dopey, wearing shoes that didn't match my outfit and with eyeshadow on only one eye.

Nighty night #yawn#

*Ok I kicked him, hard, in the shin and hissed 'shut it!'

Labels: Fiance, Sunday Night Syndrome