Showing posts with label Sleep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sleep. Show all posts

October 30, 2013

The Bearfrau's Guide to Stabby Killers
( + Pumpkin-Spice Steel-Cut Oatmeal )




Well, not a guide to stabby killers.  This isn't a death-row walking tour.  It's more of a guide to surviving stabby killers - my valuable contribution to the Halloween season.

This whole story starts with a turtle.  It's hand-sized, brass, with a stained-glass shell and a teeny little lamp inside it.  So when your husband has gone out of town on business again and you're alone in the apartment in the dark and you're thirsty but won't get out of bed because that dark reflection in the dresser mirror might be your own, but it also might be Bloody Mary, and now that you've thought the words "Bloody Mary" it's definitely Bloody Mary, and you're pretty sure she's going to jump out of the mirror and scratch your eyes out, you can turn on the turtle and have a gently colorful glow on your nightstand and see that it's really just your own reflection and maybe actually get some sleep.

I'd like to emphasize that it's stained glass.  Which means it's Art.  Definitely not a nightlight.  Art.

August 23, 2012

The Best Apologies Come with Bacon
(+ Quiche Lorraine)




Mr. Bear is basically a saint.  Especially in bed.

Wait, wait.  Don’t go.  This isn’t about to get inappropriate or weird.  Well, inappropriate anyway.  It’s pretty weird.  But just quirky-weird.  Not “I want to curl up like an armadillo and un-know all that stuff about your toe fetish” weird.  This isn’t about our attempt to act out 50 Shades of Grey with lunchmeat hand puppets, or anything.*  It’s about how I’m wired wrong.  I panic at bedtime.

The night always starts off perfectly normally: some halfhearted debate over what time to go to bed, then teethbrushing.  Jammers.  Pills taken.  Face washed - because, let’s face it, the days when I could expect to sleep in my makeup without waking up looking more or less like a moray eel are over.  Thermostat adjusted.  Doors and windows checked.  Decorative bed pillows banished.  I swear there was a time when I just went to bed when I was tired.  Now it seems like preparation for some Olympic sport.  Which is probably an apt comparison, because what's about to happen is like a triathlon of crazy.


*If someone were to do this and put it up on YouTube, I’m pretty sure we’d all become famous.  Just something to think about.