Sleep. Please.

The Nightmare, by Henry Fuseli (1781)



I am so tired of being awakened by this thing or that. Saturday night we went to bed at the decent hour of 10:30. Our son had to work at 7:30 on Sunday morning.

I was awakened about every hour all night. I was disturbed by:

My daughter getting out of bed for an allergy pill. She got up and turned on the kitchen light. And she wasn't quiet about it, either.

A nightmare.

A car driving by playing loud boom boom crap.

A nightmare.

Sirens.

I had to get up and pee at 3.

A nightmare.

My son got up at 7 for work.

At 8:30, the church up the street began ringing their church bell, as they do every Sunday. They rang it (I counted) 94 times.

I am sure they graduated from the very righteous 'GET UP OUT OF BED YOU HEATHENS' Bell Ringing Institute.

Last night I was on the nightmare-go-round again.

It doesn't look promising for good sleep this week. I keep having bad dreams. Lots of them. I am pretty sure I know *why* but it doesn't make it easier for me to manage a full night's sleep.

That's why the picture.

Phooey.