Most people will agree with me. It’s not a problem sleeping alone. Once you’re deliciously unconscious, it’s blissful not to be interrupted by somebody else’s snores and sharp elbows. For the single person, it’s getting to sleep that’s tough. There’s nobody there to make you feel secure and tell you what they did all day.
So I’ve built up a mound of decorative pillows where a man would normally lie. And my Chihuahuas
Dreams are vividly colorful, like a movie. If the script requires me to talk, I do it out loud. The Chihuahuas
This terrible joke has stuck in my mind like dried up bubblegum: “What’s the best time to visit the dentist? Two-thirty!” It’s supposed to sound like tooth-hurty. So I tell the dogs not to eat their eggs and bacon too fast because it’s hot and will make their mouths-hurty.
For the older single person, staying asleep is a challenge. We tend to sleep light. So I keep a stack of books beside the bed, just in case my eyes pop open and refuse to close. Right now I’m reading Chuck Yeager’s autobiography, a collection of Southern Humor, and a book on sewing clothes by making patterns from clothes you already own; ones that fit your figure well. This is a great idea! Nothing makes me madder than sewing a whole dress from a rogue pattern and discovering it looks better wadded up in the trash can than it did on me.
I refuse to take a computer to bed. I had a good mother who reminded me that looking at a screen in the pitch black will make me go insanely blind.
Plus, how can a person get sleepy when the Internet is always awake? It’s addictive. One cute video of kittens in the toilet just leads to another. Before you know it, you’re in real deep. It’s two thirty: time to get up and cook the bacon and eggs.
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