I have trouble falling asleep at home. If I think long and hard about why this happens to me, I come to the conclusion that it is most likely due to a lack of wearing myself out. Last night I decided I was sick of staying up until 4AM, watching bad television and surfing the Internet for celebrity gossip. So I did what any normal person would have done in my situation, I took a shot of Nyquil.
Because Nyquil is supposed to relieve fever, flu symptoms, headaches, etc., and I was feeling none of the aforementioned ailments, it left me with a strange (OK, high) feeling. I’m not sure why exactly this happened, but my lack of medicinal knowledge leads me to believe that the drug had nowhere else to go but directly to my head. Sure enough, within the half-hour it had done it’s magic, and I was happily asleep.
Today is a different story. I’m not entirely certain whether I should even be blaming this on what could be an innocent over-the-counter medicine, but my whole body felt tragically frail. It took effort to get myself out of bed, brush my teeth; even deciding what to wear felt as tedious as sitting down to take the SATs.
Eventually though, I managed to drive myself to a morning yoga class. How I got through this hour-long endeavor, I’ll never know. I felt as though the other women present, many in their 50s and 60s, looked at me as though I was the “young unruly-type”. (Meaning, I looked like I got-drunk-and-had-a- really-good-time-the-night-before-and-somehow-still-managed-to-pull-my- ass-out-of-bed-and-make-it-to-yoga-class, “young unruly-type.”) Anyone who actually knows me however, is aware that unless my schedule is completely open the next day, I tend to steer clear of the courage juice.
Upon coming home from the said class and practically crawling up the stairway to reach my room, I made it to the bed. That’s right, at twelve in the afternoon I was ready to go to sleep again. What’s wrong with me, I thought as I began to drift off. Luckily, my thoughts stopped then and there as I passed out until three-o-clock. In hindsight, I’m not sure I should have been operating my car earlier that morning; as it is what many warning labels refer to as “heavy machinery” and hence, something to be avoided.
To make a long, and unnecessary story short, the 30 milliliters of Nyquil I consumed kept me in a comatose state for over thirteen hours. As proof that I have learned my lesson in regards to abusing such substances, you have this blog post that I have completed writing at 2AM. I am wide awake and remain seated on my bed plotting the next task to accomplish that will hopefully induce heavy eyelids and eventually REM while the Nyquil bottle sits untouched a mere fifteen feet away.