I am an insomniac. Not of the Christian Bale sort. Not of the suffering like Jesus, slowly losing my mind sort, but a sketchy sleeper nonetheless.
About three nights a week, precisely at 3:00 a.m., my eyes flutter open and I’m awake. I stay awake for an hour or two or, on bad nights, three. Sometimes I get up and putter around, but that makes me feel like I’m crossing into Christian Bale territory, so I try not to do that. I usually just lay in bed and think idly about all the things I have to do the next day. Or, if I’m feeling weak, I worry about things I cannot change, such as the incontrovertable fact of mortality and what a raw deal it is, global warming and what a raw deal it is, war, poverty, Britney Spears’ career and abilities as a mother. Oh, and it goes without saying that I fret about whatever project I’m working on.
When I’m more centered I wonder what Tango might be thinking about in his stall. Apparently horses rarely sleep more than a few minutes at a time, so he’s probably up and thinking about something. I ponder what Sean Penn might be up to and imagine it’s probably something pretty interesting. My guess is that he is a bit like a horse in his sleeping habits. Same goes for Angelina Jolie. Then I get into reminiscing about old times, such as when I used to stay up past 11:00 intentionally.
But to get to the point, in the last few weeks I have woken up to find new wrinkles on my face. I’ve discovered a few new ones on my upper lip and today I found one on my forehead. It’s actually more of a trench than a crease, especially considering it’s such a young wrinkle.
My fear is that I’m creating these wrinkles because of all the faces I make while lying awake at 3:00 a.m., which, I should add, is the time of day you are statistically most likely to die. Something about the body’s rhythms causing a sudden plunge in blood pressure at this hour. (This fact is probably bogus. Please don’t repeat it to anyone who is knowledgable about death, dying, or sleep. Same goes for the bit about Sean Penn and horses’ sleeping patterns.)
Anyway, I think what I’m going to do to stop further erosion of my face is to spend those sleepless hours doing anti-wrinkle face exercises. When I get up to use the washroom I may take the opportunity to apply an extra layer of moisturizer. I may also eat a small bit of avocado which apparently has oils that are good for the skin.
If I seem amazingly unlined the next time you see me, you’ll know that my new insomnia skin care routine is working. If my face is instead ravaged like only an insomniac’s can be, you’ll know that I would have been better off using sleeping pills.
Finally, the site will be going offline for a while in the next little bit. Diane, my brilliant web guru, is going to give it a facelift. (Oh, that she could do the same for me! Actually, I’ve heard of vets giving Botox injections. Maybe I could ask Diane if she’s interested in taking up a bit of light plastic surgery as a sort of artistic hobby.) When we come back, there will be no signs of the chronic insomniac about us. Either that or we’ll have learned to live with ourselves.