Lions and Tigers and Hair…

My first instinct was to continue that thought and add the obvious “Oh, My!” but that would merely add a lame cherry to the top of the already lame title.

So I resisted.

It’s part of my new Say-No-To-Temptation-Self-Improvment-Program.  It’s only taken me fifty plus years to learn that giving in to everything you want can often lead to unpleasant consequences. But that’s another story and it involves admitting to a previously hedonistic youth that I’m not ready to admit just yet.

What this story is about is how I judge a good night’s sleep.

It’s all about the hair and what it looks like in the morning.

Crazy morning hair equals a good night’s sleep in The World According To Me. But along with aforementioned good night’s sleep comes the crazy nighttime dreams that I have to endure in order to get the much sought-after crazy morning hair. I guess it’s a yin and yang kind of thing.  Or, translated into the American vernacular:  you-can’t-have-the-sane-without-the-crazy rule.

And the dream that came with my crazy morning hair this week was about lions. Not the kind of lion dream that involved Romans and Christians and Nero blaming them for burning Rome to the ground. But rather a lion being paraded on a leash through an otherwise “normal” dream by some guy I didn’t know.

[Normal, of course, being relative as it relates to me and my dreams.]

I know that dreams have meaning so off I went to get an answer from the World Wide Weird as I often do when I want to a completely accurate, objective answer to some of life’s most pressing questions.

This is the answer I’m going with:

For a woman to dream that she sees Daniel in the lions’ den, signifies that by her intellectual qualifications and personal magnetism she will win fortune and lovers to her highest desire. 

Okay… so I don’t know if it was Daniel or whether or not we were in his den but whatever. I rarely let details get in the way of enlightenment.

But I digress.  We were talking about hair, right?

Right.

Hair.

 

 

 

When Fish Attack

It’s a television show.

I ran across it during one of my late-night channel surfs.

I guess When Fish Attack is better than I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant…..

….Or I Survived which is show on the Biography channel where some poor innocent describes how a deranged killer tried to sever their head with a rusty piano string or some such gruesome-ness.

And they run the clip over and over and over while I’m all alone, late at night, chasing sleep with a nice light Bio on Barry Manilow and WHAM…wide awake and scared shitless.

I need to just step away from the remote.

Why I’m Grumpy

Besides women who leave public toilet seats wet with their own urine, I’m grumpy because of Free Credit Report dot com. 

Since I sleep alone often (not by choice but rather circumstance), the T.V. is a nightly companion.   I turn the volume down really low when I’m ready to fall asleep… just enough to drown out any creepy noises.  

I hate creepy noises.  Always have.

Generally, I’m pretty brave but something  about shutting my eyes and surrending to sleep when I’m by myself has never been easy.  

Okay…I’ll say it!  I’m yellow… a fraidy cat….lily-livered, mamby pamby, a chicken. 

Happy now?

Well, I for one feel better for admitting it and this place is, after all, all about me so there.

And now back to why I’m grumpy (as if anybody really gives a shit but see previous statement).

There is one thing that can turn my middle-of-the-night fraidcat-ness  into full frontal aggression and that’s being jarred awake at 2 a.m. when that fucking Free Credit Report dot com commercial comes on and turns my subtle T.V. volume from soothing to sleep-through-this-regardless-0f-your-Ambien alarm clock.

Why is it that commercial has mega-watt sound?  It’s like, 20 times louder than even those male enhancement commercials which, given their time-slots and the fact that most people are watching them in bed with their partners (except me), might actually make sense.

Isn’t jarring volume used as a torture device in certain cultures?  (uh….like ours?)

Does anybody else find this irritating?

I’m assuming, of course, that there are other freaks out there with the same I-can’t-sleep-alone-without-the-T.V.-on problem which is presumptuous on my part.

I’m thinking stronger prescription.

Or I could just turn the fucking thing off.