SLEEPLESS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

This is a loopie, lollapalloozzer.  I leave the front of the CRT and head for the bedroom.  OOps, forgot to close the doors.  So, U - turn, close the front door, close the back door.  Turn right, three steps toward the bed...Ay, ay, I think I have something else going back there.  Better check.  Oh, yeah, my perfumed candle is still lit.  How can I be so stupid? So, Pphhfft!  Hmmm.  Wow, it's dark in here.  Easy now, slow as you go, no wanna stub a toe.  Good going, almost in...POW! the bed put a move on my shin.  That's OK, I'll get even, I'll pounce on it on the way down.  So I do.  Then I squiggle a bit, get the hole for my head well formed in the pillow.  I let out a sigh, wiggle my hips, close my eyes away from the LCD glow of the alarm clock read-out.  Then, I fall victim to my detailed check-list.  Now my mind won't shut down.  It just got itself into gear and is cruising down the Strip and the internal stimuli are attacking the queevates and the synapses big time.  Lights, noises, feelings, memories, more lights, despicable people from my past, money I owe, fights I lost, fights I WON, the GAME that we lost on the last play of the last inning, the hardest four balls I ever hit, all in a row and all to their brilliant shortstop, the one with the big rep.  I'm thinking that it will never end.  I get up, slide over to the computer table and before I get to be seated, now the ear worm gets me.  It's a crummy song, one that we used to sing on the roof-top terrace in Rome.  Shheeesh, 50 years ago and He's back again.   Of course, good ear worm that it is, it refuses to go away.  Then I get attacked by the cars I totalled, by the shenanigans I actually got away with, the ones that I got caught at, the times I got fired, the wins I had in court, the grades I got at the University, the one I got where the examiner said, "I see you have studied."  He gave me the lowest possible passing grade.  He knew I had my plane tickets in my pocket.  He was nice to me.  I then actually had five minutes of peace and quiet.  I didn't move.  I didn't wiggle, I didn't squiggle, squirm nor squeeze.  I didn't breathe.  Oh, %^#@**, I shoulda kept breathing.  Here it comes again.  Now it's the worst kind.  Questions.  That 365 thingy?  Whatcha gonna do after 365?  It's gonna be less than a year ya know?  You... [That's better.  Quit the slangy, trashy stuff.] You haven't told them anything about you yet.  When are you planning to do that?  Then I get this Catholic Guilt nervous defense going.  I've told them a lot.  Haven't you been reading it?  Yeah, I'm reading it.  When you going to get personal?  I mean, real personal?  No, not that personal, but you know, down deep personal?  Like, do you really believe in God?  Why don't you tell them more often that you're Catholic?  Why don't you say how you really feel about religion?  Politics too.  Why don't you tell them what party you belong to?  You afraid or something?  You and all your fancy words and you've never told them what you really think about education.  Are you ever going to do that?  Your philosophy of life and all that kind of stuff is still out there isn't it?  Whoaaa...You mean I have to tell them that I am a Marxist?  Or a Sartrist?  I'm not sure I want to go there.  It snarls back at me, <Why did I ever dare to think that you're not really a wimp?>  Now, not only am I not sleeping, I'm really fighting it.  Like Bill Cosby once said, "Did you ever try to really FORCE yourself to sleep?"  Yep.  Sure did.  Last night.
Well, the wimp thing got me.  By then the nasty ear worm was gone, and so was everything else.  Oh, except my bladder.  Funny, how that earthy necessity, cut the misery short.  I washed my hands, went back to bed and in fi... Stercus taurorum, not again?  No, no, I'm backing off now says Captain Coconut.  I just have one more thing and I promise I'll let you alone.  Know what?  I don't believe you. Believe me.  Last two things.  a. Don't forget to write all this down.   b.  Next time this happens, run to the table, start writing and I'll go away.  I hate people who write.  Then go back to bed and Morpheus will take care of you.
Now that I have shared my little secret with you, you won't have to cry at my funeral.