Tales from the Bedroom…
- At April 03, 2013
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
2
That got your attention, didn’t it? Don’t worry, this isn’t that kind of post. It’s about something I heard on the radio yesterday. Apparently, the concept of a “double” bed, ie: for two people, doesn’t mean the same thing in Germany as it does here.
North Americans think this:
Germans think this:
The clip I heard on the radio was from a woman, I’m guessing young, who was aghast at making this discovery while on vacation. She felt that sleeping under separate duvets totally destroyed the romance.
No snuggling close beneath the covers. No playing footsie. Etc. Etc.
I think, give it a decade or two, honey. You’ll be kicking those hot feet over to their own side, believe me. Having your bed-mate take all the bedding with him when he rolls over, now that damages the romance.
But then, so does insomnia and hot flashes.
If you’re lucky enough to be with someone who matches you annoyance for annoyance, and puts up with you anyway, you’ll probably be happy to sleep side by side in whatever bed you happen to find yourselves. Etc. Etc.
Day 67 Too Tired to Read? Never!
It doesn’t happen often, but I’ve had a couple of nights this week where I can’t keep my eyes open long enough to read in bed. Of course, my restless legs still don’t let me sleep, so I usually end up putting drops in my eyes and squinting and twitching into the wee hours anyway. Sometimes, if I’m really hurting, I close my eyes and listen to audiobooks, but I don’t have enough of them. Audiobooks, I mean. Well, I could use more eyes too, I guess.
As I continue my 90-Day Bikram yoga challenge, I find myself pulled to reading about people who have gone through similar mid-life challenges. The empty-nest, questionable-career, mortality-looming, maturing-marriage sort of challenges. I’ve already mentioned Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen. Hilarious and tender memoir. Here are a few other memoirs I’ve read lately, that all have something to do with where I’m at right now:
Poser, My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses, by Claire Dederer, in which the author chronicles her journey through mother anxiety, money stress, marriage worries and, oh yeah, going a little nuts with yoga. 
A very entertaining book by a good storyteller.
The Gift of An Ordinary Day, by Katrina Kenison, a beautifully-written story of the emotional turbulence that sees her uprooting her family while their two sons are teens, and creating a brand new home. 
This book is not about yoga, but it is about letting go and redefining life once the children become adults.
This Isn’t The Story You Think It Is, by Laura Munson. 
I read this one in about a day and a half. The author writes a very personal account of a season of marital fragility and how she’s able to detach herself from her husband’s crisis, staying at peace and allowing him to get through it and come out on the other side. Funny and touching, again not about yoga, but definitely about the crazy-making stuff that happens in midlife.
I love books. Can you tell?
Day 58 Night Shift
- At April 12, 2011
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
Another sleepless night.
My youngest daughter is fighting a virus and I think she’s given it to me, thanks darling. I don’t know what it is about colds, but don’t you feel that whenever you’ve got one, it’s the worst thing ever?? The pain in your chest is like, probably, a heart attack. Your sinuses feel, you imagine, how they might feel if someone poured Drano down your nose. You wonder if people going through chemo ache like this in their bones.
You know it’s just a cold. But still. A tiny bit of your brain wonders if this time, you might die of it.
The first thing to go for me is the ability to sleep. Partly a menopause thing, partly my own personal cross to bear. If I’m excited, I can’t sleep. If I’m depressed, I can’t sleep. If I’m hungry, angry, worried, I can’t sleep. Those mornings that I get up, aware that I did not see the clock at 2 am or 3:30 am or 5 am, I feel like doing cartwheels on the lawn. I SLEPT last night, people! I can do ANYTHING!
But then there are the other nights. I’m like Goldilocks, trapped on a dark, Escher-like treadmill. Too cold. More blankets. Too hot. Blankets off. I’m hungry, so I get a snack. Full stomach turns into Restless Legs Syndrome. Stretching my legs turns into yoga. Yoga becomes meditation. Meditation becomes an idea for a story. Which ends up with me huddled beneath a dim light with my notebook.
At least I’m getting something done.
But if I don’t get some sleep soon, the Sneaky Hate Spiral will kick in, and someone’s gonna get hurt.