18 September 2010

Midterm Resolutions

My husband is a touring musician.  And, although I'm terribly proud of him and happy that he does what he loves for a living, when he leaves for tour, I am left to my own devices and I'm not always to be trusted.  My devices of late, however, have been pretty great, so I'm not deteriorating at the rapid pace I usually do.  They are positive, healthy, classically-sustaining devices that include healthy eating, yoga, running, laughing, and sleeping.  These are nice devices, like a refrigerator or a vacuum cleaner.

Why, then, do I feel as though some kind of bus carrying conventioneers going to a health expo has just run me over and instead of taking me to the hospital has instead given me apples and down-dogs to heal my mangled legs?  Because, I still like to incorporate a few nasty little habits even while in the midst of the good ones which, in turn, make the good ones feel as though they're out to get me.  These habits seem to occur only when Tim is away, as he is usually the voice of reason, saving me from myself in countless ways.

My absolute worst habit sans-Tim is falling asleep on the couch.  And, I don't just fall asleep, I stay asleep on the couch.  While these two actions are, generally, mutually implied by each other, I also assume that if someone normal falls asleep on the couch and then awakens to find they have done so, they'll get up and go sleep in their bed.  This is where my rapid departure from normal continues.  Our bed is literally 10 feet from our couch.  We live in an open loft - long on character, short on space.  I sometimes will wake up on the couch - neck cricked, confused and groggy - look directly at the bed, and fall back asleep, painfully and soundly.  I cannot pull myself off what, at this point, can now only be described as the dogs' bed and go to the human bed.  A big, cozy, comfy bed, and I choose to stay on the firm, unyielding couch where the dogs sleep.  I don't know why I avoid beds.  I love them.  And, I love sleeping.  Alas, when Tim is here, I don't have a problem climbing into bed and it's not just the handsome man that's in it, either.  So, why do I avoid the bed when I'm alone?  Sleeping on a couch is never very good sleep, now matter how good the couch.  I wake up exhausted and go on about my day, still excited and happy but a little less coherent.  Ridiculous.

After having run this morning with the dogs and a yoga class immediately after, mentally I feel great.  Accomplished, happy, healthy.  But, physically I feel exhausted.  I can't help but think this might have something to do with my couch-sleep last night.  So, the new resolution in the midst of doing incredibly well with my original intentions is to sleep in my goddamn bed.  Get home, wash face, brush teeth, get in bed.  Do not eat, do not turn on Frasier DVD, do not even sit down on couch.  Get in bed.  And on nights that I'm home early and have made dinner and am actually using the couch for it's intended purpose, I just can't allow myself to lie down.  Which means, some nights I might be headed for sleep around 8pm. I'm ok with that.

Because I'm not ok with feeling like I'm finally doing all that I've ever wanted, shaping my body and mind into something I really like and being too tired to enjoy it.  At some point, it even seems, shockingly, counter-productive.

I need a nap.


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