Sleepless in the Suburbs


One of the first things Mr. Woog and I do every morning is to enquire as to the quality of the previous evenings sleep. We have been doing this for years now, as we are clearly very sexy and interesting. For the record, last night he slept as sound as a pound, where as, I did not. Me + no sleep = not very nice. My evening routine is to get myself into bed at about 9.45pm with lights off by 10.30pm. Then, in the dark, I count using my fingers as to how many hours of sleep I will get if I was to wake up with the alarm at 6.45. Anything over 8 ours brings joy to this sad, sad woman.

Last night, I let Isobel sleep on her bed on the floor because she had been mistaken for a rabbit at the local dog park and was the target of some rather rabid dog behaviour and she looked, quite frankly, a little depressed about it. This is an exception, rather than the rule, believe me. I watched two episode of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt on the iPad (I know I KNOW! You must NEVER watch a TV show in bed before sleep time. One must READ. I get this.)

Then I turned it off, snuggled down under the covers. And nothing. I don’t know if you suffer from extreme mind racing when trying to sleep, but last night Mick Doohan might have well been in charge of my brain. Jumping from this to that, me all the time telling it to SHUT THE FUCK UP OK. Then I would try to focus on my breathing and to shut out the noise, but each time, Mick would rev the engine and I was off again. I got up to use the latrine and it was 2am. And that is when I started to panic.

I marched myself back to bed, snuggled under and really, those sheep started flying. I must have nodded off at some point, and I must have admitted a little snore because before you could say “Sweet Dreams…” I had Isobel Barbara all up in my grill barking into my face like I was a cat burglar. Off to the laundry she went, clearly over being traumatised and in turn wishing to pay it forward and traumatise someone else. The little bitch.

It would have been 4am before I managed to get a few hours if light, fitful sleep. You know the type of sleep you get obsessed about when you have a baby, the really long deep session that you have. The REFRESHING sleep. Well, my friends, it completely missed me. And I am not sure how I feel about today, not one bit. One coffee in, 2 deadlines and a myriad of errands awaits me. It is cold outside. I feel like I have been up with newborn, colicky triplets. So, lovely friends, I need to know the following.

How much sleep do you get?

What are your secrets to a longer, more satisfying snooze?

And does Kimmy Schmidt get better? Or am I just wasting my time….