I admit I both love and hate puzzles. I enjoy figuring things out and the vast sense of accomplishment when a puzzle gets solved, but if I can’t figure it out I throw mental tantrums and lose sleep for weeks. Seriously, I have dreams about the puzzle and walk around looking like a spike-haired zombie. So when you see me down and out or a little irritated, don’t think that something has gone wrong with me; it is most certainly a puzzle that has overtaken my thought process.
By the way, people are puzzles too!
You already know about what causes my sleep disorder. When it happens, it feels as though the universe is conspiring against me when it comes to getting quality shut-eye. Know what I mean? After the day’s not so hard work, I finally get snuggled up in my bed, ready to crash, when the “cuckoo next tree” decides to get chirpy. 3:00 am in the morning! I move to the balcony to scoot the bastard, but it sounds as though it has decided to be my girlfriend for the night. How about isolating my room shutting all the windows and doors? Surely it’d be quiet that way, right? Not with that constantly dripping sweat down the neck in that oven of a weather – where is that coming from anyway? I go back to my bed and pop in the earbuds, but no matter how I position my head, pain shoots through my skull. How can I help without Vodka? And people think I drink too much liquor.
Talking of cuckoos, I think the entire ‘bird kingdom’ is conspiring against me: that bastard kite! It attacked me when I was on a morning jog. I still have those 3 parallel lines of scars on my forehead. And then those fucking peacocks near my old residence. They’d decide to have their mating call routine every morning at 4:30 AM. And if you haven’t heard a peacock in its mating routine, just take my word for it; even if they think they’re singing better than Mangeshkars, it is torture more than water-boarding!
Some people think human beings “were never meant to sleep in the same bed. Somehow sex and sleep get all jumbled together. But they are two different things.” You love each other alright, but you must have separate beds, and want that “bed to be the sanctuary for sleep and sleep alone.” If you must have it, get a third queen or king sized (whatever the terms mean) bed just for sex. “Yes! A sex bed! A dirty-dirty sex bed.” Would that not excite your carnal desires and take your sex-life to a whole new level?
Come to think of it, why buy a “sex bed” at all when the entire world can be your playground? Do it in the tub, or the kitchen table. Or in the park or on porch. May be in the departmental or book store. And while you’re at it, just tape the entire adventure, and get some extra income by selling the tapes to ‘Hustler’ or ‘Digital Playgrounds’. You never know, you may just be revolutionizing modern relationship in the process. Or has that already been done by some other folks?