Lying in bed last night, I read an article about sleep issues that affect women in their 40s. Our hormones are in a “state of flux” which rhymes with sucks, so maybe there are pertinent uses for that word.
In this “fluxuated” state, we women of midlife often suffer insomnia. I used to stress about it, but feeling exhausted seems natural now. I wasn’t concerned until I reached line four of paragraph two—it turns out that sleep is crucial for weight loss. Unbelievable, all this time I thought excess food was the issue.
Continuing to read, I perused the list of sleep inhibitors. Stress, hormonal changes, pets… “That’s interesting,” I thought, shifting slightly while carefully maintaining S curves around the bodies of two cats.
Aha! Paragraph five, line two, listed a solution that didn’t involve addiction…exercise. For reasons not explained, exercise seems to affect insomniacs similar to sleep medications. “Of course,” I chided myself, “you’d sleep like a baby if you exercised more.”
I finished the article while Brecken dream chased something, probably a cat—that would be my choice if I was the one relegated to the floor. Accompanying her excited dream barking, her toe nails danced rhythmically along the dresser....click, click, click, click....click, click, click, click.
As I moved to another article, shifting again without dislodging the cats, Sedona stopped snoring and picked up the chase....click, click, click, click....click, click, click, click.
“I really could use more sleep,” I thought, “Maybe I’ll start my new exercise routine tomorrow.”