There's something you can do at night that's totally fun, which is to lie awake and stare blankly at the ceiling while this guy who apparently has no worries in the world snores contentedly beside you.
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
Wait, no. I meant "torturous," not "fun." Sometimes I confuse the two. The line is thin.
"Insomnia" used to be such an innocent word. It was the name of this cool 24-hour coffee shop in Deep Ellum. It was a book about old people by Stephen King. It was the name of a creepy Robin Williams movie.
But that's all changed. Now it's my personal hell.
If my nights were depicted via cartoon, you would see a black room with me represented by two wide-open eyeballs. When I blinked they would make noise. Then I would see another pair of eyeballs and realize that Bugs Bunny was in the room, too. Probably dressed as a woman. I really admire Bugs' security in his masculinity.
There are several ways to deal with insomnia. All of them are worthless. But if you were looking for valuable information, you would not be reading this column, so here they are:
1. Abstain from coffee and other caffeinated beverages after noon. This is especially effective if you have a job that you don't need to be awake for, such as sleep-research volunteer or editor. Ha, ha! Just kidding, boss! I know you are conscious probably more than half the time!
2. Stay up really late watching TV and tire yourself out. This works well if, instead of the five hours of sleep you were averaging before, you hope to reduce the total to three or so. It's also good if you really like Three's Company reruns. Which I certainly do, though it is no Full House.
3. Drink. This gets expensive and also garners strange looks from your boyfriend when you keep a bottle of tequila on your nightstand. And sliced limes. And O.J. and grenadine. Even when you explain that tequila sunrises are purely medicinal! (He is so judgmental. I think he has been listening to Tom Cruise.)
4. Take drugs. Sleeping pills make me think of bleary-eyed, martini-swilling '50s housewives. Sleeping pills and pillbox hats – it was a pill-centric era. But now, in the '00s, over-the-counter sleeping pills are wussy drugs and don't do anything. I suspect that I am paying $7 for a box of cleverly packaged Tic Tacs.
What causes insomnia? No one knows for sure, but I suspect God is punishing me for something. Probably for that time in junior high when I wrote bad words on the church program and showed them to my friend Natalie to try to make her laugh during the sermon. Sorry, God.
On the other hand, maybe I can't sleep because I am so worried by my preoccupation with Bugs Bunny in women's clothes.
Send Jessica folk cures for insomnia at jburgess@ quickdfw.com. She'll get back to you after Jack Tripper resolves his wacky mix-up.
