Sleeping in a Box

 There is a box beneath my bed where sleep resides.  The box was padlocked last night, with sleep inside and me trying desperately to get in.

I used to sleep so well. Now I long for it; thinking about it, missing it and wanting it to return to me. There's nothing worse than living in a sleep-deprived foggy head. Somedays, like this morning, I feel as if there is one little marble rolling around inside my head and I can't quite manage to get it to stop rolling around up there so I can enjoy a clear thought.  I imagine that my mother feels like this a lot, and I worry about that. That it might one day be me with Alzheimer's. I really don't like feeling this way, and today is a big day.

One of my granddaughters, Ivy, is coming over today to bake Christmas cookies with me. I am excited about it; there is just something so special and funny about almost-five year old kids. You just never know what is going to pop out of their mouths! I wish I could be more alert--I know I will enjoy it, but I would probably have more fun and remember it better if I could be just a little more on top of that rattling marble in my head!

Tonight will be another tussle with the box beneath my bed. I just don't know why some nights it opens easily and some nights it is locked up tight. I wish I could find the key, but I imagine that since I've suffered from insomnia for years, I don't imagine I could ever manage to keep that box open!

Off to more coffee, then to cookie-making!