If you know me you’re well aware of my issues with sleep. It’s decades-long insomnia and I’ve tried everything…almost.
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I'm always surprised to come home to a messy house.
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There's a holiday originating in Mexican culture called 'Dia de los Muertos' that starts on Halloween, and goes on for a few days afterward into early November.
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Aside from my natural leaning towards omission by way of fabrication and fantasy, I just have to tell you, I come from a long line of liars.
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For years I thought I had invented something very special- polenta bread, and would boast about my cleverness, having figured out what a great ingredient it is in baking. It makes a moist loaf with a crunchy crust from the ground corn meal.
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There must be a genetic link to hatred of holidays. When dad spoke of Christmas he would say 'I want to give presents when I WANT TO, not when I HAVE TO!' Which was never, apparently.
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How can one day be so different internally from another when the circumstances are exactly the same?
For me much of it has to do with sleep. Bad sleep=bad day. Good sleep=good day. I can never be sure what the night will hold, but usually it's like this...fall asleep 11pm, wake up at 2am, think it must be morning only darker than usual, looking at watch and seeing the arrows on the numbers up there at the top, feel dread rippling through my soul. This is the middle of the night when the bad people come out.
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I admit it. I have a problem. When someone tells me “Listen, one teaspoon of sugar in your coffee is not going to make any difference” they clearly don't know about the phenomenon of craving.
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Oh hindsight. It's true what they say. 20/20. I had a 5-year marriage and I wish I could tell you I was too young to have known better, but I was 30....not so young....and then there were those martinis.
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