OK, by a show of hands, how many of you out there reading this are tired?
Yep, me, too.
Sigh and yawn.
You know, I hate to admit when Kerry is right, but his assertion that I, not unlike many newborns, am getting the days and nights confused on my snooze schedule might not be that incorrect.
I may have mentioned this before - the extreme tiredness that is my life - but my fatigue seems to be negatively impacting my short-term memory a bit; so forgive me any repetition. However, I am so tired that, at times, my train of thought isn't merely derailed, it is outright lifted off the tracks and hurled headlong into the opposite direction - right into the path of an oncoming train, btw.
I'm sorry, what were we talking about? Oh, right, drowsy-dom.
Here's the funny thing about sleep: those who can easily have it at will - i.e. anytime, anywhere - outright refuse it. I mean, remember when your kids were like two and three and equated sleep with imprisonment? I can recall literally stuffing Kyle into his racecar bed because he was toddler-drunk and unable to stand for lack of sleep. Yet he fought me, limbs flailing, any and every time I suggested a little power nap. Once, he actually fell asleep with his little legs straight up in the air. I'm not kidding.
The other side of that coin is this cruel irony: those who covet sleep more than chocolate itself are completely eluded by it. Soccer and swim moms everywhere actually daydream about when we'll next be able to rest in peaceful slumber. Alas, practices, homework assignments, parent-teacher conferences and oh, yes, that little pesky little annoyance known as work often interrupt our collective sleep pattern.
The truth is, I cannot remember a time in my adult life when I wasn't completely exhausted. At least I'm in good company.
There's my oldest, dearest pal Michelle Coppola, who is a fellow Youngstown native. We've known each other since we were five and share many a trait - not the least impactful of which is our obsessive-compulsiveness about our daily workouts. The fact that we know each other so well, coupled with the reality that we're both utterly pooped out the majority of time we're chatting on the phone, makes us perfect sleep-deprivation co-commiserators.
Honestly, we don't even use words anymore, just a series of grunts and mumbles. Sort of like an audio Morse code - you know, caveman-style.
"Did it ever occur to you both that if you spent less time working out you could sleep more?" both our evil husbands are often heard remarking.
But we just roll our eyes and respond, "Bblllhhrr ssffmcchhh!"
Michelle knows what I mean.
My other sister-from-another-mister Christine Ruggieri of Warren comforts my bleary-eyed-ness, too.
Granted, she sleeps even less than Michelle and I do.
"I think it's a conspiracy run by the baristas of the world," said my Chris.
She pointed out how Starbucks employees are constantly pushing forever asking customers if they "want a shot of espresso in that?" We deduced that they are not completely dissimilar from street drug suppliers slipping in freebies in order to entrap their regulars even deeper into their lair.
"They give you discounts for coming back to buy a second cup in the late afternoon" she said, her voice trailing off as she hit her 3 p.m. slump.
And, when I heard her car tires squealing in the general direction of Starbucks, I knew they'd ensnared her yet again. Drat!
The coffeehouses, the five-hour drink suppliers, the under-eye dark circle concealer sellers. Yikes! It really is a conspiracy to keep us all tired and dependent.
Heck, the only ones who seem to want us to get a good night's sleep are the mattress manufacturers - and even they seem to have their own hidden agenda of pushing ancillary bed products.
Oh, well, I'd rant longer but I need to refill the water in my Keurig.
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist and walking zombie. Contact her with coffee coupons at firstname.lastname@example.org