Bedtime Trajectory

Again with the bedtime passing me by.  It beckons me, waving me on, urging me to follow, but I tend to turn my head and avert my eyes as it passes by like the passenger on the backseat of a classic Harley.  "Keep on riding, my friend, head on down that drowsy highway without me," says me.  I'm a bit rebellious about the whole sleep thing.  Lately, it's been a bit rebellious with me.  What did I expect?  The thirties went bye-bye almost a year ago.  My entire body has been busy letting me know just that.  It's holding onto things, like weight and aches, and penalizing me for not adhering to less than perfect standards with things like SLEEP!  The middle joints of my middle fingers hurt -- and NO, I don't make a regular practice of flipping people off, though I did, in fact, flip myself off in front of the bathroom mirror once a couple of years back . . . but I deserved it!  My face looks thinner while the area around my hips and midsection seems fuller; it must be the fatty deposits migrating from my mug, huh?  And, my short term memory has never performed at such alarming rates of forgetfulness as it now does.  I think daydreaming and distraction go along with that: the other day, I almost put the measured cat food in the water boiling on the stove instead of the meowing cat's dish.

So, rebellious me sits in the worn dark brown leather recliner in our living room, wondering why Wal-Mart was out of the colored duct tape necessary to slap over the stuffing exposed by our nail-sharpening cat.  It's not like his scratching post isn't five feet away.  We do spray him with water or phhhsssst! him off with a loud disciplinary hiss.  I'll grab him and set him on the carpeted cat toy if I catch him.  But we can't be around every time he has an urge to lay his paws on the side of the chair.  Thus, applications of brown duct tape to the grievous wounds.

In the background, the lullaby strains of laundry spinning in the dryer reminds me that duties are never done.  As if I actually needed that particular recollection.  I did try to go to bed early.  At 10PM.  I cozied up to the husband, spooning his warm form, one arm over his, looking directly at the back of his right ear.  And, I feigned sleep for a time, hoping it would become a fact instead of a ruse.  When it became clear that I was too restless to remain supine, I crept stealthily to a familiar spot before our Samsung television with my yoga mat in tow and tightened my tush to the strains of a new series on Showtime -- which DirecTv has activated for three free months as a loyalty gift . . . without asking us -- about a stay-at-home mom who finds out she has cancer.  The Big C.  With Laura Linney.  The main character starts changing all of the things which have bugged her for years.  One by one.  While it may not be my ideal cup of tea, it did stimulate a few clear thoughts.  Doesn't really take too much to get me thinking.

Why do we human beings wait for bad news to alter our trajectory?  If there is an element to our existence which displeases us, pushes us down, hurts our heart, or squelches our soul, and we are in a position to change that situation, why don't we do it more often?  How come someone has to die or be diagnosed with a serious illness before we realize it's okay to express ourselves?  It's fine and dandy to eat dinner for breakfast every day of the week if you want.  It isn't required of you to clean your house and wear yourself to a frazzle just because company is showing up on short notice.  There's nothing wrong with telling someone that you feel the friendship is strained and in order to rectify that you need to tell you how you're feeling and what you're sensing.  Spending years grumbling over the same five pounds is a waste of time before the years pass!  And do you really want to pass on the art of busily stressing over time-sucking goals which have been determined by the countless 'theys' of this world to your impressionable children?

If a certain woman of a certain age is calling herself The Reluctant Suburbanite, there's a reason.  She's just got to figure it out and alter her own trajectory on her own terms.  Until then, soy lattes will have to keep her going.