Poppies

And now my beauties, something with poison in it I think, with poison in it, but attractive to the eye and soothing to the smell . . . poppies, poppies, poppies will put them to sleep. 

Last night I got exceptionally little sleep for the second dark time running. Lemme just tell you, this  is just NOT the way. I really could've used some fragrant poppies.
This was me last night:

Brain: grumble, percolate, bark, snap
Me: rolls over, puts in more eye drops, deep breathing exercises commence.
Brain: HAH, nice try sister!
Me: turns on light, makes attempt to read self into Lullaby Land. Failure ensues.
Brain: May I offer you a selection of your worst memories from childhood?
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOO!

To paraphrase my old bud Willy the Shake:

Care keeps his watch in every old woman’s eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.

So, if I’m understanding this postulate accurately, I can’t sleep because I care too much. Do I have that right? If I didn’t give a shit about anyone but me, me, ME, I’d be schlafen like Cake. I don’t think so. If this theory held, wouldn’t the Tangerine Twat, an extremely toxic narcissist, be comatose in the wee hours of the morning instead of rage-tweeting (rage-lying) his considerable ass off?

Ms. Jane Austen feels that, in my state of persistent wakey-wakeyness, I’m somehow courageous.

And now I may dismiss my heroine to the sleepless couch, which is the true heroine's portion - to a pillow strewed with thorns and wet with tears.

Well, there are no thorns on my pillow and the tears are from my nighttime eye meds so maybe I’m not so heroic.

Sometimes I have trouble falling asleep but it's not so bad
I don't worry and I don't weep. In fact I'm glad.
Because I get up off my pillow and I flip on the light.
I get down and get hip in the still of the night I stretch and I yawn and then I breathe real deep And dance myself to sleep.
I hoof around my beddie just a-tappin' my toes
Before I know what's happened I'm a-ready to doze
Got some partners I can count the boogie-woogie sheep
I dance myself to sleep.
~ Jim Henson, It's Not Easy Being Green: And Other Things to Consider

WHY am I not Jim Henson?

It’s a long way back to sunset, a far way on to dawn, so you summon all the fool things of your life, the stupid lovely things done with people known so very well who are now so very dead...
~ Ray Bradbury

As I lay, sleep-free, in bed, the memory came to mind of Kevin and I sitting on the flat roof of the art building. We were having a pre-8AM sociology class doobie whilst tossing pebbles onto the sidewalk five floors below. Why? //shrugs// Maybe because, post-spliff, I never failed to nod off? Yup, we both failed that class. 

Possibly it's time for a wee nap.