I feel justified

I heard a story this morning on NPR about how lack of sleep can contribute to gaining weight (it has something to do with how our bodies respond to insulin). So now, in addition to the study that indicated insomnia may be associated with dementia as we age, we also run the risk of getting fatter while we lose our minds.

I have always needed a lot of sleep, and I've always been wired to wake up early. Because I get up early and need a good eight or nine hours of sleep a night, I also go to be early. Really early, like most nights I'm in bed around 8:30.

Let me tell you, morning people get no respect. Oh I hear people say they wish they could get up early the way I do. But I never hear anyone say they want to go to bed as early as I do. Plus everything fun and entertaining is held at night, and by my standards quite late.

Last weekend we went to a birthday celebration for a friend that started at 8 PM, a mere half hour before my normal bedtime, and we got home around 11. The next night we had some friends over for dinner. We didn't eat until after 7 and they didn't leave until after 10. The really sad thing is even with those late bedtimes, I still got up pretty early (7:30 on Saturday, and 6 on Sunday). It's just the way I'm wired.

But now I'm going to revel in it. It's really just a matter of good health because I can reduce my risk of dementia and weight gain, all by getting the sleep I already crave. I'm proud of my early bird status and even more proud that I do generally get those eight or nine hours of sleep I need.

Hugh was right

In an earlier post, I mentioned that the cats, specifically Wally, are making sleep next to impossible. The situation hasn’t changed—I’m now on about day five of sleep interrupted and I’m getting pretty cranky. You know it’s bad when the cat commotion cuts right through the fog of Tylenol PM.

Hugh made a comment about how his dog, Sam, was the family barometer and would pace at night when things were stressful. Clearly, Wally is our barometer and he’s wound up tight.

Yesterday, I made a point of waking him up all day long, but nicely. I petted him, I tossed endless Velcro strips for him, I got out some cat nip, I held him and walked him around the apartment. It didn’t matter. He still acted out most of the night.

If he understood words better, I’d tell him I get it. I’d tell him I’m stressed too but one way or another we will always take care of him and be there for him. He’ll be with one or the other of us and we won’t abandon him.

But he doesn’t understand my words, he only picks up on my emotions. So today I will rouse him again, all day long. I’ll do my best to be sweet to him even though I’m so tired I could cry. Tonight will probably be a Tylenol PM night again because I am desperate for sleep.