Full-moon insomnia

I said to Cliff last night, before I went to bed, "I ought to just take an over-the-counter sleeping pill; there's a full moon out there, and I never sleep well during a full moon."  
Unfortunately, I did not take a pill.  
Oh, I went to sleep not long after going to bed.  Then at some time before midnight, I awoke and heard the unmistakable sound of my dog, Iris, jumping in the bathtub of the bathroom just off our bedroom.  Normally she only retreats to the tub when a storm threatens, but the sky was cloudless.  I mused on this, then managed to go back to sleep.  
At two o'clock, I woke again, and evidently Iris heard me stirring, because I heard her jump out of the bathtub and come to my side of the bed.  I reached down and stroked her head for awhile; when I'd stop, she would nudge my hand.  
What if she's sick and needs out, I thought.  So I whispered to her, "Do you want out?"  
She did the characteristic stretch that dogs do when you ask such a question, which usually means yes.  I got out of bed; Iris led me to the living room and plopped down in front of the couch in her favorite TV-watching position.  Obviously she wanted another insomniac to keep her company, but I went back to bed.  Within five minutes, I heard her climbing into the tub again.  
Cliff woke up briefly and I told him I should have taken that pill, but 2 A.M. is too late to take one.  Then I heard Crazy Neighbor pulling up to the house next door, the house on whose loan he has defaulted... a house with no electricity, but he seems to be staying there anyhow.  This was the second time during the night that I heard his car over there.  He has a court date in three weeks, so maybe then things will quiet down.  
I heard a train whistle at the back of our place, which set off a chorus of coyotes howling.  
At this point I'm wide awake, and I start pondering the mistake at the bank.  Yes folks, for the first time in my life I actually caught a bank in a mistake.  I had written check number 2476 to pay a bill in the amount of $78.37.  Saturday I received an overdraft notice in the mail saying check number 2476 was for the amount of $240.76; the bank had paid the check and charged me a $20 overdraft fee.  
You can imagine how this messed with my mind, waiting until Monday morning to call the bank.  The lady I talked to yesterday was courteous, and by this time I had cooled off so that I was nice to her.  Turns out it wasn't my bank that made the error, it was the bank on the other end.  She explained it all to my satisfaction, and said she would get the money back into my account.  The trouble is, at our rinky-dink bank, transactions don't show up online until the next day.  So, at 2:30 in the morning I was lying in bed wondering if that had been taken care of.  At 3 A.M. I finally got up, made coffee, and found out that, indeed, everything was fixed and my money was back in my account.  
Then I checked Facebook and saw there was a rash of insomnia amongst my Facebook friends.  It never fails; after all, it's a full moon.  If I were the type person to believe in  astrology, I would wonder if it affects me because I am a cancer... a moon-child.  
I received a lengthy email from my friend, Maria, yesterday; I mentioned her in yesterday's entry.  She still reads this drivel, and said she prints off all the recipes I include in my blog and gives them a try.  Maria is of 100% authentic Italian heritage (and proud of it), so I'm glad to know she likes my hillbilly recipes.  Ah, sometimes I wish we could go back to the old chat room days.  There was a core group of us that felt like family.  Then I remember the stinkers and troublemakers that came on the scene and disrupted things, and I have no desire to go back.

insomnia

I like some of the things about Cliff's four-day, ten-hours-a-day work-weeks.  I like the fact that we have three-day weekends to go on motorcycle trips to St. Louis or Arkansas.  
But I hate it that Cliff gets home at 3 A.M., because at least half the time I wake up when he comes in.  He's quiet as a mouse, doesn't turn the lights on; he does all he can do to keep from waking me.  It just doesn't work.  
When I entered middle age I began having trouble sleeping through the night.  Oh, I have no problem initially going to sleep when I hit the sack (usually before 10 P.M.); I'm out almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.  But I wake up two or three times during the night; sometimes I go back to sleep, sometimes not. With Cliff coming in at 3 o'clock in the morning, I guess it's so close to my internal clock's wakeup time that I just can't go back to sleep.  
I never allow myself to get out of bed until four, and once in awhile I do go back to sleep.  More often, though, thoughts will come into my head that only make me more wakeful.  
This morning, for instance, I started thinking about my scheduled appointment with the orthopedist Friday. After walking around that tractor show last Saturday, looking constantly for a place to sit down, I came home and made the appointment.  I was pretty darn sure I was ready for a new knee.  
But lying in bed wide awake at three o'clock, it suddenly occurred to me that the six to eight weeks I'd be recuperating would take place at one of my busiest and favorite times of the year:  Springtime.  Even if I were to get into the operating room next week, I'd be out of luck during March and April when it comes to gardening and motorcycle riding.  And believe me, with the winter we're going through, I need those activities badly.  
Of course, while I'm in bed wide awake pondering such problems, at some point I start thinking of coffee.  I try shoving the thought away, but it won't leave, and I almost salivate thinking how good my Eight-O'clock Coffee is going to taste.   I peek at the clock and see I still have a half-hour until I'm allowed to get out of bed, and I start pondering my grandchildren's affairs, wondering how any of them are going to survive in this messed-up world.  I shove that out of my head and start thinking of stupid things I've said and done in the past that I wish I could take back, even things from my childhood.    
I've talked to a lot of folks who have trouble sleeping through the night; it seems to be a common problem with women middle-aged and beyond.  At least I don't have to go to work all blurry-eyed any more.  I suppose that's the bright side.  
If I have several problem nights in a row, I will take an over-the-counter sleep aid, and that often gives me a decent night's sleep.  I don't take Tylenol P.M. like many folks do because I don't have pain... only sleeplessness,  And I don't take sleep aids often because I don't want to develop a dependence on them.  Besides, they leave me feeling rather groggy for a couple of hours the next day.   
So here I sit blathering away on the keyboard, trying to decide if I should cancel my appointment with the orthopedist, or if I should go ahead and consult her, perhaps telling her I want to wait until November to do anything major.  
I'm going to go get another cup of coffee while I'm figuring that out.

Is it the phase of the moon?

I'm always awake at 4 or 5 A.M. I stopped worrying about it years ago. I try to lie there in bed until 5, then I get up and go to the computer; usually these days I head to Facebook first.

This morning I noticed a strange phenomenon there.

Dave typed in, "Why am I awake at 0300 on my day off?"

Sonya said, "WIDE AWAKE.... WHY?" and someone commented to her: "Me too, I've been awake for an hour and ten minutes."

My friend Joanna: "3 AM and I'm worrying over work issues. Not a good thing."

Mortimer: "Spent the night with Mr. Insomnia."

Mighty peculiar. I hope all my readers slept well last night.