Fox Sans Sox - (Notes on Insomnia topic)

Of the ones I can remember, this was the fifth worst night of my life. The first two were in elementary school when a nasty cold/flu/something kept me coughing and, therefore, awake through the entire night; the third was a connecting flight through Detroit that got snowed-in; the fourth was a dozen or so Bud Lights followed by an unremembered quantity of unknown “bombs,” whose sole redeeming moment was my roommate, Brad, vomiting all over his Poli Sci TA--she’s now my girlfriend. But, for the fifth spot overall, tonight narrowly edged out the time when we decided to test whether fireworks can cook microwave popcorn (they can) without lighting fire to the bag, the box, or the jacket of the person holding the match (they cannot). You see, tonight I couldn’t sleep.

I know what you’re thinking, here’s a guy in his mid-20’s who works all day and has fun well into the night; by the time he curls beneath his blankets, he must fall asleep instantly in order to maintain that schedule. And that’s how it used to work--no matter what I had done the previous day, my body had been conditioned from Freshman year on that it would not be getting as much sleep as it wanted, so it had better steal every second I permitted from the moment my head hit the pillow until my cell phone alarm began squealing in the morning. This system worked perfectly for almost seven years--until I ran into Chris.

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Kevin and I were married almost six months ago; I still don’t know what to get him for the half-anniversary. I may just reprise his birthday gift (lots of sex) but, frankly, the mindless pleasure is becoming a bit dull. I never thought I would tire of sex, but after being with him for four years, there is no part of him I don’t know and nothing he could do to me that I haven’t already experienced. I think I’m ready for a child, so it’s become annoying that my own husband refuses to screw me without personally witnessing me take the pill every morning or wearing a condom (often both!). God said ‘go forth and multiply,’ not bury-yourself-in-work-to-the-point-where-you-forget-that-your-car-needs-gas-while-you’re-tailgating-a-semi-on-the-highway.

We knew the call from corporate would come eventually, we just didn't expect it to happen during our honeymoon. Now Kevin manages fourteen branch offices and eight hundred employees throughout the region. He still loves me, and hasn't cheated during any of his business trips, but he's still exhausted. I know all of this because I am his priest's psychiatrist. We aren't quite sure where the lines should be drawn in the doctor-patient-priest-parishioner milieu, but we're pretty sure we've already crossed them, so no harm in continuing along.

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Steve stepped outside for his break just as an ambulance roared past. Why in the world do they come here? McDonalds, Denny’s, and the new IHOP are all open 24 hours and are closer to home for most of them. Steve had a habit of asking himself rhetorical questions when he was off work. The restaurant, a greasy spoon just shy of the city limits, did a decent brunch service in the late morning, catered business lunches in the afternoon, and kept a was a popular happy hour hang-out. But Steve could not think of a single earthly reason why anyone should stick around this part of town past 9 o’clock gnawing at the night chef's overcooked dishes. Not to mention, he reminded himself, there was that one time with the wild fox.


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