By: Revanche

In the dark of the night …

October 14, 2014

I don’t know about you, but 2 am insomnia feels pretty grim. I know how not to be an insomniac but doing isn’t always as easy as knowing.

If I were smart I’d be asleep right now.
If I were smart, I’d actually have stopped working at 930, and gone to bed then.

My body is stressed and it is showing in gross and sundry ways. You’d think this would teach me a lesson but instead I ponder what other new blogs I might read because I’m not going to sleep.

Willful insomnia, that completely makes sense. Especially when you consider that I’m going to be up in the morning to work again so it’s not like I’m under the impression that it’s a weekend.

I started reading Kieron Gillian’s Journey into Mystery and it’s good enough that if I pick up another volume I’ll probably not sleep at all tonight.

I consider an old Mercedes Lackey compilation, The Free Bards, because it is an old familiar friend and immediately crave cheese. Because it is firmly embedded in my mind that Rune gets cheese, bread and a carrot early on and I’m always receptive to the idea of getting a slice of cheese to have with my book’s character. Unlike John Scalzi who detests the mention of stew in these books, mentions of a traveler stopping at an inn for a slice of bread and stew just makes me want to make a thick loaf of crusty Irish bread and a pot of potatoey tomatoey stew.

PiC snores away and Seamus won’t even come into the bedroom at night anymore, preferring his living room bed (it is awfully comfortable) to the bedroom set up because my being up late keeps him up late.

I’m doing all the things you’re not supposed to: keeping the light on, looking at my phone, reading in bed at long stretches.

But sometimes you just have a hankering for your quiet alone time. I have alone time during the day but those aren’t MY hours. Those hours are for work and housework, thinking and doing. There’s so little time for puttering, pondering and just being. And maybe that’s just what my brain, and soul, want right now. While it can still get it, before an infant shatters the peace forever.

Or, more likely, I’m just not smart enough to be trusted to put myself to bed.

At least I get here. But LB is both of us at once: a night owl and a morning glory so I get the movements all night and as soon as I wake, sometimes before. I haven’t really been alone for months and LB is quick to remind me of that.

The dogs haven’t given me real privacy in years, I suppose that’s been good training for having an infant/toddler underfoot.

Everything aches from tip to tail. The counselor asked me today how the pregnancy has affected the fibro and I don’t know how to answer that exactly. My pain doesn’t come neatly categorized: these parts hurt because of the pregnancy and those parts because well, they’re just broken. This never ending backache, is it because of the new weight I’m carrying or is it just the backache I would have had anyway? And that odd hitch in my breathing and pain in my chest? Well that could be because of either.

Because everything hurts, with fibro and many things are weird as hell with the pregnancy, so how do you know? And I guess, what does it matter really? Pain is, like money, fungible. Applicable anywhere.

I don’t know if the counselor was reassured or not by my shruggy answer.

Still less, I don’t know if she actually believed me that I don’t recall the last time I had a drink because I rarely drink recreationally. I’m both too cheap to pay for alcohol at restaurants and don’t really care that much about it, is that really so unusual?

Little Bean proceeded to wake me every hour with gymnastics. That’s not a huge surprise.

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