52 Questions I Ask Myself When I Lie Awake At Night
Insomnia has been my companion for well over a decade now. Sometimes, it settles down and I get to sleep. Not through the night. My insomnia finds that unacceptable. But some nights, I fall right back to sleep after waking up. Other nights? Not so much.
My insomnia has been particularly strong lately. I figured as long as it’s hanging out, I might as well document what goes on between my ears when my brain insists on staying awake when the rest of me so desperately wants to sleep.
Here is a sampling of questions that flit through my mind on the nights the sandman is shirking his duties:
Was Mr. French happy with his career choice?
How many people even know who Mr. French is?
Have I ever wanted a French dip more than right this moment?
Why do I trust packaging more if there is twine involved?
Why do I ever buy super lotto tickets? Do I love to be disappointed even though I claim to hate disappointment?
Why can’t I ever eat that last banana?
If I had a time machine, would I use it responsibly?
Why would I even ask that last question? Of course I wouldn’t.
Would Norman Reedus like my banana bread?
Is there anyway I can make question number nine nasty?
Are my old lady snaggle teeth coming in?
Is my old lady smell coming in?
How many pairs of clean underwear do I have to have before I stop feeling anxious?
Is there an accurate way to measure how much wood a woodchuck can chuck?
What is a woodchuck?
How many pairs of saddle oxfords have I owned in my life?
How exactly does one rock a casbah?
Did those men ever get hats?
Why don’t all places deliver food? Why do we just want pizza brought to our door? Why not a nice stew?
Why don’t I make more stew?
How many people are looking up stew recipes at 3:00 am?
Should I start a stew delivery service?
Should I stay or should I stew?
How many more times will I have to have the “we are not changing our names to Mr and Mrs Potatohead” argument with Randy?
How can someone who wants to be known as Mr Potatohead sleep so soundly?
If I could go back 40 years, with all the information I have now, would I affect change or would I just be the crazy person who stands on the same street corner for years shouting about Trump?
Why would Dumbledore sing about leaving a cake out in the rain?
How did I manage before getting Alfie the kitty?
What the fuck is Alfie the kitty looking at on my bedroom ceiling?
Why would I even consider buying a white shirt?
Do I not remember the fate of every piece of white clothing I’ve ever owned?
It’s a really cute shirt though, isn’t it?
Okay, fine. It’s cute. Why would I consider buying something that needs to be ironed?
Do I even know how many years it’s been since I’ve ironed something?
Job interviews aside?
Am I going to be okay?
Did the naked cowboy participate in any marches?
How many minutes of my life have I spent trying to tie a cherry stem with my tongue?
Why don’t I follow through on things? Like the cherry stem thing? Or paying bills on time?
Why do I sometimes buy orange or yellow clothes? Do I secretly want to look ghoulish?
How can I both learn how to make Buddha bowls and make fun of them at the same time?
Seriously, Buddha bowls?
They do look delicious though, don’t they?
Should I give Monday a fair shake?
What does that even mean? A fair shake? I mean, I know what it means, but why does it mean give something a chance?
Am I going to even look that up? Or just wait for someone to explain it in comments?
I think I already know the answer to that question, don’t I?
Why can’t I find a sugar substitute that tastes like sugary goodness and won’t try to kill me with it’s chemicals?
Are there any pudding cups in the fridge?
How long has it been since I cleaned out the fridge?
Randy won’t notice if I turn the TV on, will he?
Seriously, am I going to be okay?
So, there you go. Questions I field when I’m battling insomnia. Although, to be fair, any one of these questions could pop up while I’m waiting in traffic or sitting through a boring meeting at work.