Night owls need naps now and then
I have this terrible habit of sleeping only in short spurts. I ‘m not sure how it formed.
Perhaps it all started when my now 16-year-old son Kyle was a baby and had to be perched upright for an hour after every feeding because of his severe reflux disorder.
Poor little guy.
There we were, two night owls, wide awake at one, three and five bells and then dead asleep at 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. and, oh, just after dinner time, I suppose.
I think it’s fair to say we both suffer serious snooze-ability impairments as a result. Then again, neither of us tends to functionally require a ton of sleep, just those occasional catnaps.
The down side is, when we do finally drift off, it’s very, very far away at sea. Like, deep in the heart of the ocean. Okay, it’s sort of equivalent to a mini-coma. Ain’t much waking us up, you dig?
In stark contrast to the nocturnal half of the residents of Casa Kimerer lie the other two members of the fam, who sleep as much as that famous, tired little dwarf. Seriously, though, it’s just this side of Rip Van Winkle, people.
I’m not kidding.
My husband, Kerry, and our Boxer, Monica, could siesta at high noon. In bright sunlight. Seven days a week. On top of Mount Saint Helen’s. During a geyser.
And then wake up, have a stroll and a quick snack and lie back down for a nap.
In their defense, the sound of a kitten walking on cotton balls wakes them, even if only long enough to roll over and return to Slumberville.
Anyway, there I was, all contorted like a broken pretzel on the couch the other night, er, morning, when it happened. You know that phenomenon occurring when you fall asleep during a show you love and are jolted upright by some ridiculous other show?
I think of it as awakening in the “Twilight Zone” – which is a favorite of mine and one which I’d welcome viewing at any hour, but I digress.
It’s spooky when I nod off during a Cavs game on Fox Sports Ohio and wake up to the weird and wacky World Poker Tour. Did you know that people actually pay to fly to Vegas, then buy admission tickets, and chips and beer to sit around and watch other people sitting around playing poker?
Or, even worse is when I go to sleep to college football but wake up to cage match fighting.
On many of the cable channels, it’s really just “Groundhog Day,” as in, you fall asleep watching “American Horror Story” on FX and you wake up to another viewing of the same episode.
Or, sometimes, you’re pleasantly surprised, a k a, you fall asleep during “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” but wake up to “Watch What Happens Live” with the hilariously over-the-top Andy Cohen.
If you’re really, really lucky, you wake up to a show you adore and can watch 18 million times without getting sick of. For me, it’s “Friends”.
But do yourself a favor, when you start to get too woozy to keep your eyes open, quickly flip to a safe channel, like Food Network or HGTV.
Otherwise you might wake up to an infomercial about a medicine that alleviates thinning eyelashes, but causes chronic halitosis, indefinite twitching in your left index finger and the urge to eat five large Papa John’s pizzas every two hours.
Sheesh! I’ll stick with the death cage match, thanks. Sweet dreams!
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist and perpetual night owl. Contact her via www.patriciakimerer.com anytime. She’s up.