Wednesday, April 02, 2014

Insomnia thoughts, or, I wonder if I'm parking next to a crack house

This is what insomnia looks like:

Well, that's what insomnia looks like in a normal, tidy house with no pets and an attractive woman with normal hair.

This is what insomnia looks like in my house:

I share my bed with a cat, a dog, various dog toys, a book, at least one pair of glasses, and then there's the hair. (THE HAIR. I could write an entire blog post about the hair. But, I digress.) So you'd think that there's a lot that I could occupy myself with when insomnia strikes. Like that glass of wine on the night stand. Turns out, not so much.

On those occasions when I can't sleep, it seems that my neurons are determined to have one of those tequila parties where, when you clean up the next day, you find someone's bra under the kitchen table, miniature marshmallows everywhere, and that someone has drawn a moustache on the cat with a Sharpie. They (the neurons) drunkenly skitter through all the sensory input of the day (and with the internet and Netflix, there's a lot of input) and compose a list of random thoughts with which to torment me.  

Like last night -- here's a running commentary of what was going through my head:

  • At work, I think I'm parking next to a crack house. 
  • Sketchy neighbourhood? Check. Sketchy house? Double-check. Sketchy-looking people coming and going all the time? Check. Check. Check.
  • If it isn't a crack house, what else could it be? 
  • I heard about pizza in Vancouver that's drizzled with marijuana oil. To quote my friend Sasha, "Munchies: the problem and the solution all wrapped up in ooey gooey goodness. Duuude." But, wouldn't this just be a self-perpetuating rollercoaster? Eat the pizza, get the munchies, eat more pizza, get more munchies. I guess as business plans go, you could do worse.
  • Maybe it isn't a crack house. Maybe it's a.....I don't know. Craps game? Bible study? Recurring Pampered Chef party?
  • If I could create one piece of legislation, it would be to institute jail time for not returning your shopping cart to the shopping-cart corral at the grocery store. Criminalize selfish laziness, I always say.
  • Beards without moustaches. I don't get those. I don't get those at all. Seriously, who thinks those look attractive?  I mean unless you're Amish, 

or Captain Ahab,

or Abraham Lincoln.

Why bother? And even he would have looked better if he'd added a moustache. See?

Debonair, right?

  • Do cats have the capacity for sarcasm?
  • Did I close the garage door?
  • Poutine. I want some. But at 2:43 a.m. it's not going to happen. Peanut butter on crackers is a REALLY SUCKY substitute.
  • Wait, I think I fell asleep there for a minute. CRAP, I just thought too loud and woke myself up. 
Eventually, of course, I do fall asleep. Usually about half an hour before the alarm goes off and I have to get up and get ready for work. And parking next to the crack house.