I'm Sleepy (A TMI-ish Thursday Post)

I've come to a point in my life where I'm afraid I'm going to have to utilize a sleeping aid other than masturbation.

Don't get me wrong; polishing Darth Vader's helmet is still plenty enjoyable, but it doesn't get the job done like it used to. In the sleep department, that is. I'm still fully capable of ejaculating like a geyser. Allow me to allay your fears in that department.

It's just that now, I don't sleep quite as nicely as I used to. The simple solution is to blame it on the heat, as I am a man of ample girth. Especially where it counts. Don't believe me? Just look at a picture of my wife. Look at that smug smile of satisfaction permanently slapped on her lips. That, my friends, is a testament to girthiness.

I'm talking about girth in other areas of my body. *sigh* Okay, fine, I'll just come out and say it: I'm a bit overweight. I realized this the other day when a bunch of Chinese guys came by and rubbed me on the tummy and then questioned aloud why I wasn't made of bronze and just why was Buddha telling them to kindly fuck off.

Over the weekend, I was forced to close my windows and fire up the air conditioner. Usually, I try to hold out until June 1st, but I couldn't this year, mostly because the weather forecasters were wrong (insert shocked face here) and predicted highs well into the nineties for the holiday weekend. While the highs did not attain this lofty plateau, it was still amply humid around here, and so my hand was forced. Chilled, recirculated air became a matter of need, not just a matter of luxury.

The problem isn't even the heat during the day. That, I can deal with. The heat at night, however, is a whole different dog and pony show. A very sweaty dog and pony show, but a dog and pony show nonetheless.

The problem is that the temperatures don't drop below 70 at night around here, and if they do it's only in the wee hours before dawn that they accomplish that, well after I've slouched into the bed trying to grab a few hours of sleep. Coupling this with the fact that air flow in my house is fucking ridiculously stagnant, and you can see where the problems begin.

So, to recap: it's hot, it's muggy, and the air doesn't circulate so it doesn't ever actually get all that cool. And whatever cool air there is goes rocketing out through the piss-poorly insulated walls and windows. And the fan--though, it's a very good fan and I love it as if it was a third child--can only push so much air, and even that isn't enough to cool down me.

Thanks to this, I've entered into a sleep cycle where I drift off, begin the sweet, sweet dream cycle, and then, just as Natalie Portman is about to show me her V for Vendetta, I wake up. I toss about. I roll over. I mutter profanities under my breath. I finally drift off to sleep, rinse and repeat.

This means I wake up sweaty--which is never a good thing--and surly and listless and feeling as if I've taken one of those naps where you fall asleep on the couch for thirty seconds and then your kids start fighting over who gets to claim the remote after Daddy's drifted off. What? You don't have those fights in your house?

Well, kindly fuck off.

I'm sorry. Don't be offended. It's the heat and lack of sleep. Maybe.

So, this makes me think I should drug myself before heading off to sleep--that's where I'm a Viking, after all--so that I can make it through a night and wake up feeling at least a little refreshed and maybe not quite so surly.

Of course, waking up and having some of the morning sex would be nice, but I can really only take that matter up with one person--maybe two, if I'm lucky and someone's feeling kinky. *sigh* I can feel the glare through the computer monitor now, and she hasn't even read this yet.

My apologies for the digression. Won't happen again. Today, at least.

It does look as though I'm going to have to resort to some kind of chemical agent in order to help me through the night and sweeten my disposition.

I'm thinking rum.