Double Down

10 Feb

It seems insomnia is my most persistent muse. It may have been the ill-timed coffee at 5 pm. It may be the headache I can’t shake and the weird right ear pain that has me anxious it’s another throat thing.  My throat and I are at constant odds with each other. It might have been checking in on a blogger I haven’t read in years. Her name just popped into my head and I checked in to find out that her husband of 14 years was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and then died four short months later at the age of 44 leaving behind four children and, well… her. It might be all of these things working together on my brain, but they have left me here.  Wide awake at 2:05 am.

I just took 2 Tylenol PMs.  They should deal with both the pain and the racing thoughts in about 20 to 30 minutes. The writing is a less chemical method to achieve the same results.  So I’m doubling up.  Doubling down.

I got my kids haircuts today.  There are three men who work at this place. We walked in at 3 and they looked aghast to see us.  There were people waiting everywhere.  Steam collected on the windows.  Music blared on the radio and each of the three TVs played a different station at full volume.  They are methodical in their work.  No amount of customers will cause them to rush a haircut, which is one reason I like them, but can make for an awfully long wait. Can you come back at 4:30? they asked. No problem.  We came back at 5 and waited a few minutes.  There was hair everywhere.  It was clear that these men had been cutting hair for hours and hours without a break.  One barber, in between each client, would just pound down like a liter of water and then call the next dude up and start all over again. I wondered how much hair went home with them on their shoes and pants.  A lot, I imagine. I like these men.

Sam got the best haircut of his life. When he was done, the barber asked if he could take a photo to put up on the website  Sam, a little shocked by the suggestion, agreed.  The barber said “Ok, but if you’re going to, you have wear these” and handed him a pair of aviator glasses.

Craig is asleep on his feet these days.  Exhaustion has claimed him. How many days til the end of grad school, I wonder? He tries to stay awake, to watch a show, to feel normal.  But his head droops within minutes of trying to relax.  He always goes to bed before me, after much persuasion on my part. I follow him up about an hour after.  I lay down in bed and find his wrist and hold onto it. He tenses up for a second when I  coax him out of sleep by pulling his arm toward me, but immediately relaxes back into wherever he was.  This nightly holding of his wrist, he is unconscious to it.  I am 100% present for it.  It’s bittersweet.

I contemplated making mashed potato casserole tonight at 2 am for the Sunday supper I’m making tomorrow.  But I wrote instead. Now it seems too late. 2 was a possibility.  2:30 is absurd. Good night. I hope.

 

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