“It is dark thirty,” as a good friend used to say. Time to close out another day and get some rest.
When you go to bed, do you immediately fall asleep? Do you toss and turn, hoping to shake all the mental clutter out of your head so you can sleep?
There are people, like Hubby, who can fall asleep almost anytime and anywhere. In his case, he managed to fall asleep with pen poised between his fingers at the start of a final exam. Wonder if he snored or made little snuffling sounds during his nap?
For the rest of us, the minute our heads hit the pillow those pesky neurons start firing salvos in our heads. Our minds refuse to shut down. All the thoughts kept at bay during the day come tumbling into our heads, clamoring for attention.
If you have children, think of such bedtime thoughts as mental toddlers. Toddlers demand our attention no matter how mentally and physically tired we are. And, toddlers do not process or accept No or Later. They want our immediate attention.
We ask you to return to those innocent times when you believed in fairies and the Sandman. Strap on you Tinkerbell wings and watch folks experience the sleepless agony caused by those pesky mental toddlers.
Since this writer’s mental toddlers forced her out of bed to write this column, she will be our guinea pig.
Mental chaos ensued the moment she slipped under the covers. She did not have time to let the sigh pass her lips. You know, those Ahs of satisfaction when you expect to sink into the arms of Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams.
Instead, her mind replayed the visit that day of our nephew and his daughter, a student at the University of Oklahoma. In the course of our meandering conversations, Hubby wondered what the term was for the medical condition involving complete hair loss. Always ready to learn something new, the wife decided to ask Siri, who is a male on her phone.
“Siri, what is the term for someone who is hairless?” “Did you mean pneumonia?” “No, you dumb bunny.” “I am not familiar with the term dumb bunny.”
After letting Siri know of her displeasure, we looked elsewhere and learned the words was Alopecia. Since Hubby’s spouse has a twisted mind, she wondered if Native Americans were similarly afflicted. “Since they don’t have chest hair, I wonder if they lack underarm hair as well.”
Now, in the dark of night, she wondered at the wisdom of suggesting the OU student find the answer to this burning question from the Native American studies department.
Moving along to the next topic, the mental toddlers prodded her tired brain to decide on the hero’s profession in the novel-in-progress. The writer is still percolating on that topic.
Probably dredged up because of the earlier conversation with the college student about her chosen major. The next volley recalled the time the sleepless lady wanted a teaching job in a scholastically excellent school district. Since there were no openings at the time, she decided to do substitute teaching until a position opened up.
Her first experience was filling in for a six-foot-plus ex-marine who taught Biology. Please note, the substitute was slightly over five-feet-tall.
A male student taking a nap in the back row was a bit annoying. However, the young lady sitting in the front of the teacher’s desk dressed in a miniskirt with her legs spread during class. Not quite the Biology class the substitute expected.
During the two-hundred-plus study hall, the assistant principal came in and looked around in surprise. “You don’t have to keep it this quiet. A dull roar will do,” he explained.
“You mean I’ve been doing it wrong all day?”
“Do you want to come teach for us?” he asked.
“But I don’t know anything about teaching Biology,” she replied.
“I’ll help you,” the assistant principal pleaded.
“No, thank you.”
The mental clutter was getting worse, so the wideawake writer tossed back the covers and faced her computer.
By any chance, do they make mental-clutter sifters?