Sleep Patterns

Fuzzy is on a funky schedule of late-night and pre-dawn server upgrades, which he performs remotely from his office upstairs, but both our sleep patterns are extremely skewed, his because his schedule demands that he’s awake to do said upgrades, and mine because when he’s home and awake at odd hours, I sense the activity and the absence of his body in the bed, and cannot sleep deeply. The dogs are agitated as well, for they hear his chair rolling around above the bedroom, but their desire to curl up on the bed generally rules their world.

It’s not all bad, however, as I slept from midnight to just before four this morning, then woke to the low hum of the radio as Off the Shelf came on. I posted before that I sense the change in cadence between news and story, and that makes me listen more actively – such was the case tonight. (I keep the radio on when Fuzzy’s working, because otherwise I can hear the quiet murmur when he’s speaking on the phone, or the rolling of his chair drives me nuts).

The story, tonight, was classic science fiction, an H.G. Wells tale called Inside the Avu Observatory. I thought I was familiar with Wells’ work, but this story was new to me, and not really the kind of story I’d have chosen to listen to in the deepest darkest hour of the night, as it features a black dragon-like creature getting caught inside the dome of an observatory, and engaging in a blind battle with the human occupant of the darkened room.

Still, the combination of Well’s writing, and the gentle English voice of the reader made me smile into the fuzzy dimness of the bedroom, and I turned over to better hear the radio for the fifteen minutes or so that the show was on.

I’d have preferred to roll over and go back to sleep, as soon as it ended, but reality intruded. My bladder was awake. Taking care of it required that I turn on lights, and walk across the cold tile of the bathroom floor, and that combination of events has momentarily pushed sleep from my mind.

And so I’m sitting here in bed, with two sleeping doggies, and the faint sounds of Fuzzy still working upstairs, and I’m trying to decide if it’s worth getting up and attempting to write, or if I should steal the opportunity to sleep in the middle of the bed.

I think the latter option is winning.