Aimless thoughts before sleep
I am sprawled upon the new crisp white comforter on our bed, sound of the floor fan from the kids’ room whirring behind the wall. Save the quiet hum, the house is still. The dishes are put away, the homework rests in its folder, the grass-stained clothes lay in piles in the hamper. My feet are cold. I tuck them under the covers.
My pajama pants tie at the waist but right now they are undone. Evening is a time for loose ends and comfortable stomachs. I contemplate my remaining time before sleep and wonder if I will accomplish any tasks. Probably not. A text chirps its arrival to my phone in the kitchen, echoing off the tile floor. I consider standing. I reconsider. I type another sentence.
Now the time is 9:30 and my eyelids fill with sand. Muscle memory guides my fingers to tap out letters, a skill learned from Mrs. Kiser in ninth grade typing class. I never did get that number pad lesson down right. I guess it’s good I work with words.
My head tilts to the side and my spine curves into a pillowed slump. Am I hungry? No, I decide. It is just the Thin Mints, wooing my salivary glands with their limited-time-only siren song. Shut up, Thin Mints. I take a minute to feel strong in my resistance. Then I go get a cookie.
When I return, the computer’s battery is down to 34%. Sounds about right. Solidarity, computer.
My feet have warmed up nicely by now. I stretch and roll to my side, propping myself up on one elbow. The house is still peaceful. The bedspread wrinkles beneath me. My mind drifts. It is time for sleep, for recharging. For silencing the ever-present steady stream of piffle running between my tired ears. It is time for bed.
Or at the very least, it is time for one more cookie.