Sunday Bloody Sunday
Last night I couldn’t sleep.
You know, like when you’re lying in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the white ceiling concentrating on the shadows? That’s it. And you start rolling over to the left side, to the right side, upside down, and then you find yourself wrapped in the bed sheets – trapped clumsily. A swift move that ends up with your fat ass miserably falling with a muffled thump.
Now you’re sitting on the floor, your back leaned against the bed frame, knees up and head down: “Shit! …I need a cigarette… But it’s late and I shouldn’t be smoking another…where’s the damn lighter?”
Like all Sundays, all weekends, I fuck up my biological clock and lose control over my body functions, and I had even seen it coming.
After 10 episodes of Grimm on Netflix and more than half a bottle of a red 8 pound Casillero Del Diablo, I was hoping my sight would grow dimmer and I’d feel that dizziness that gets your brain working slower and whispers good night. I was hoping. Unfortunately, that nap in the afternoon wasn’t a real great idea and I still can’t figure out how I even stayed laying down on that uncomfortable hard and broken-sprung sofa.
The only solution I could think of was to keep drinking. However, the only other alcohol I had left in the house was a bottle of Jack Daniels. Boy, I had to try.
Nine shots later, I realised I still had a super active mind but a fucked up stomach. After swallowing a Gaviscon tablet to ease the pain – sort of a cure to the cure – nothing changed: the night went on as before.
On the day after I was obviously tired. Not just tired, knackered. Destroyed. Zombie mode on, a whole pot of coffee, rush to work. At the office, I must have been looking at the emptiness of my laptop screen for a long while before I realised it was off and not in sleep mode. All day long, my head swaying back and forth, drifting off, jerking awake, striving hard to not to fall asleep on the job. With my mind in total confusion, I promised myself I would be in bed by 10pm at the latest. Just a little dinner, 2 episodes on Netflix, then straight to bed. Sounds good.
So I am in bed now. Comfortably covered, 2 pillows behind my head, checking videos on Facebook to get my eyes tired. “Yeah,” (yawning) “I’m knackered.” I leave the phone, turn off the bedside lamps, close my eyes and…
“Shit! I can’t sleep.”