Sunday, March 12, 2006
Sleepwalker
Blogger and I are through. The new site.
For the past six weeks I've been talking in my sleep. Yesterday I actually got out of bed and talked to my roommate's boyfriend.
"You wanted to go out," he said, laughing. "You kept talking about a place called Caesar's."
"But I don't know Caesar's," I said. Then, softly, "Was I wearing pants?"
M is very sensitive to the cold, so she's been turning the heater up--way up. In turn I've been sleeping in my underwear. Fortunately I'd fallen into bed after Taekwondo class without removing my clothes.
Sometimes I'm completely aware of what I do in my sleep. Last week I used the bathroom, returned, and gave a lecture while sitting in the middle of my bed. All I could think was "Christ, I didn't make a lesson plan. I am sooooo fired."
Often I can't recall anything--my friends will have a good chuckle over it during breakfast.
"I'm a little worried about it," I told my mother over the phone yesterday morning.
"You should be. You haven't been getting enough sleep. Why are you so busy all the time? What if you wander out of your apartment and fall down the stairs? Or you end up naked in the street? Let yourself have one full day of rest, and don't feel guilty about doing nothing."
Needless to say, I won't be sleeping in the buff anymore.
Pia at 4:19 PM
