SLEEP

We spent the latter half of today out and about, picking up prescriptions and running errands. When we pulled down the drive to the back of the cottage, I noticed the sun going down across the river and the way the bronze-gold light gleamed off the water…so I went inside, grabbed a camera, and made this shot.    

Another cold day here along the river—but mostly clear. As it's also the weekend when Myladylove has Saturday off, we got to sleep in a bit—which is to say I got up an hour later than usual and she slept an extra five; something like a solid fourteen hours, depending on when she fell asleep on the couch before we went to bed. 

I don't begrudge her such a long sleep; if anything, I envy it. But I haven't managed that much snooze time in decades…and never then unless I was exhausted or sick. Five to seven hours is my usual; I can make do on less, but seldom manage more. 

Once, however, when I was in college, I spent about five days more-or-less awake taking finals, then I got on a train at midnight in Chattanooga, Tennessee, which took twelve hours to reach Cincinnati, Ohio, and managed to miss the connection to Dayton—at which point I and a couple of other unfortunate passengers had to pile on a Greyhound bus for the 50-mile ride north. At the bus terminal, I called home and learned there was no one available to come pick me up because my Aunt Grace's husband, Howard, had suffered a massive heart attack that morning, was in the hospital struggling to survive, and everyone except my mother was gathered at his bedside. So I grabbed my multiple pieces of luggage and, uh, lugged myself and my stuff a few blocks to a stop where I could catch the trolly which ran from downtown to the semi-rural township beyond the city limits where we lived. By the time I'd caught that bus, rode to the end of the line, and lugged my suitcases and self to the front door of the family home, I was desperately beat. 

Mom had fried two chickens, mashed potatoes and made gravy, and baked a chocolate pie. I ate all the chicken, a lot of the potatoes and gravy, three-quarters of the chocolate pie, and drank a half-gallon of milk. Then I crawled into bed and slept twenty-two hours, barely moving…and would have slept longer, except Dad got worried and woke me up to make sure I was okay. 

My Uncle Howard eventually recovered, though it was along time before he could work again, and I don't think he was ever quite the same. Mom had fixed lots more of my favorites foods while I was asleep, including another chocolate pie. And I've never slept so long or so deeply since. But to this day, I don't know where I put all that food.

———————