At the time of writing I am sitting in front of my computer in the bluish pool of light that only comes from a screen being turned on the middle of the night. I am trying, unsuccessfully to make my keystrokes noiseless.
Difficulty in falling asleep is not something that commonly afflicts me. As my dad is fond of saying, I'm the kind of person whose head hits the pillow once, bounces back, and before it hits the pillow a second time, I'm sleeping. Once I'm asleep, I tend to stay that way. There are no midnight snacks or trips to the bathroom. For all my other failings, I'm an ace when it comes to sleeping.
Until I'm not.
Sleeplessness in a tiny apartment is no joke. There's no hiding inside these four walls, no sneaking off to curl up on a couch in some faraway room where the sounds of your munching on cookies and feverishly clacking away at the keyboard won't disturb someone else's slumber.
Tonight, James spoke up after we'd been in bed for about 30 minutes.
"Are you still awake? Because it sounds like you're awake."
I hadn't made a noise, and I was sure that I wasn't even fidgeting, but there must be some kind of super-spousal-hearing that develops over time and can detect the sound of blinking eyelids. I was awake and I wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon, so I trundled down the ladder from the loft and fired up my computer to begin to write. There aren't walls on our loft, so the only thing separating me from James now is my wakefulness and a precious few extra feet of space. As a remedy, I'm sipping a cup of valerian root tea. Have you tried the stuff? It smells like your dirtiest socks, but I promise it does wonders for quieting a racing mind. That's what I'm hoping anyway. James too, undoubtedly.
When there's only one room and you're not the only one in it, you've got to at least try to fall asleep.
PS. Did you guys read this article this week? Or maybe this one last fall? Good reading for your next sleepless night or your morning coffee, whichever comes first.
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