Every since that one December where I only slept like 30 hours the entire month, I’ve been super rigorous about what I allow into my boudoir (though it might appear that men are on the do not allow list, that is just an urban legend. Men are totally welcome as long as they don’t mind all the books.).
One of the things not allowed is a TV. This isn’t a very difficult rule to follow because I’ve never had a TV in my room. Bedtime is reading time, and has been ever since I was a kid (when I first started suffering from insomnia). In fact, none of the Sister Club are bedroom TV watchers.
The other unallowable is a computer. This is a rule that only came into being after I spent most of the late 90s and early oughts chatting online instead of sleeping.
The third thing not to cross my boudoir’s threshold is an alarm clock. This was banned on the advice of my doctor who said watching the hours click by on the clock wasn’t going to help me sleep, and would only make me feel more frustrated and hopeless. She was right.
Banning the alarm clock was easy because I had a cell phone with an alarm. My poor eyesight plus a teeny, unlit cell phone display made for a wonderful pairing.
This was all well and good until Ziggy came into my life a few weeks ago. Now my cell phone is a computer.
I wish I could say I’m not the kind of person who would sprawl out, belly-down on the bed and type away with two fingers like someone was egiving away a gold medal in naked late-night two-fingered typing. However, I am exacly that kind of person.
Though I am giving myself a little credit, because it’s taken me like three weeks to actually post from Ziggy while in bed and that’s the most self-restraint I’ve shown in years.