I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in my sleep patterns, and I think you should know about it.
Here it is: Every night, I wake up at 3:06. Every single night.
Well of course it’s to use the bathroom. And I’ve come to terms with that.
What amazes me, though, is that it’s always at 3:06. Always.
Twenty-five years ago, this would’ve wigged me right out. I would have already fashioned some either horribly gory tale about the dreadful murders that took place in my house at exactly 3:06 or a poignant tale of unrequited love that, well, somehow involves the numbers three-oh-six. I haven’t quite worked that one out yet.
And why? Because I’m a silly, gullible American made permanently irrational and superstitious by years of crap Hollywood movies, that’s why.
Dead people coming to life after they’ve been drowned/burned/thrown out of airplanes/blown into space? Well how else are we going to milk this to a sequel?
People leaping out of ridiculously improbable locations? Hey! Who doesn’t have something bursting through the interior of their waterbed? I’ll buy that!
Phone calls from beyond the grave predicting my imminent demise and what?! Speak up! What do you mean “will I accept the charges”? Sure! Why not?
Thanks, Hollywood.
Of course, I’m better now. Older and wiser and all that.
Unless of course I’m in the basement and the light goes out.
Or if I repeatedly get phone calls with no one on the other end.
No, really. I’m better now; and 3:06 or no 3:06, by 3:08 I’m back in bed, Dolly G. Squeakers (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers) pushing her wet little nose into my ear, sweet kitty vocalizations of unconditional love and the promise of treats she will gladly stand on her hind paws to receive.
Now let’s see ‘em ruin that.
Here it is: Every night, I wake up at 3:06. Every single night.
Well of course it’s to use the bathroom. And I’ve come to terms with that.
What amazes me, though, is that it’s always at 3:06. Always.
Twenty-five years ago, this would’ve wigged me right out. I would have already fashioned some either horribly gory tale about the dreadful murders that took place in my house at exactly 3:06 or a poignant tale of unrequited love that, well, somehow involves the numbers three-oh-six. I haven’t quite worked that one out yet.
And why? Because I’m a silly, gullible American made permanently irrational and superstitious by years of crap Hollywood movies, that’s why.
Dead people coming to life after they’ve been drowned/burned/thrown out of airplanes/blown into space? Well how else are we going to milk this to a sequel?
People leaping out of ridiculously improbable locations? Hey! Who doesn’t have something bursting through the interior of their waterbed? I’ll buy that!
Phone calls from beyond the grave predicting my imminent demise and what?! Speak up! What do you mean “will I accept the charges”? Sure! Why not?
Thanks, Hollywood.
Of course, I’m better now. Older and wiser and all that.
Unless of course I’m in the basement and the light goes out.
Or if I repeatedly get phone calls with no one on the other end.
No, really. I’m better now; and 3:06 or no 3:06, by 3:08 I’m back in bed, Dolly G. Squeakers (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers) pushing her wet little nose into my ear, sweet kitty vocalizations of unconditional love and the promise of treats she will gladly stand on her hind paws to receive.
Now let’s see ‘em ruin that.
that was happening to me, BUT, i started using an eyemask when i went to bed, and lo and behold, i slept through the night! who knows? i'm older than you, so these days i just roll with the urges when they hit. *gawd, my life has become so fucking boring* xoxoxox
ReplyDeleteSo having to pee in the night is to be blamed on old Hollywood movies ..... makes sense to me.
ReplyDeleteI quit drinking anything after dinner time. We don't want to discuss old bladders etc.
and I am not even old enough to discuss them yet ... it is another thing to dread .. age .. wetting the bed .. talking to the cats ... quoting the cats to other people ..
Hey...you only get up ONCE in the night. Count yourself fortunate.
ReplyDeleteHari Om
ReplyDelete...it's a menophase thing. It goes away. Eventually. Well... Mostly. Newted and Cocotoo the stuffies whispering my shell-like at night would be just too... Hollywood... YAM xx
Problem is...just when you think you're getting older and wiser you realize you're just getting older. And you've been doing that for quite a while.
ReplyDelete306? You will probably get 306 more followers by next week... ;)
ReplyDelete4:28 is my 3:06
ReplyDeleteYou are not alone
I can't say I time it to the minute, but 4am is my time when I do the trek on the cold floor, come back to bed and solve the world's problems.
ReplyDeleteAre there any other 3:06s in your life?
ReplyDeleteThis could be a synchronicity.
It's probably best not to think about it. It will drive you mad. Especially if you think about it after returning to bed in the night.
For the past 7 years since retirement, I'll wake at 4:30 a.m. for the sole purpose of not going to work.
ReplyDeleteYou are simply an organized person. It's good to have a routine.
ReplyDeleteit's a message from...
ReplyDeletetruth is, if you fall back asleep, you're golden.
3:06. You got the makings of a finely honed habit, you don't watch out.
ReplyDeleteSounds like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Or in your case (and mine), the Toilet Zone.
ReplyDeleteSadly 3.06 is but one of many stops on the way to a new day. Or one that I am prepared to face.
ReplyDeleteAnd Dolly Gee is considerably more gentle than my furry tyrants.
How do you do it? It takes me more than two minutes to be back in bed.
ReplyDeleteFor an entire year, I woke up always at 11 minutes after whatever hour. Freaky. I read that elevens are portals to the afterlife. Those ghosts had me going until I finally turned the clock to the wall. Now, I wake up every three hours. Old bladders and begging cats, not a good combination. 3:06...oh maybe the Ides of March...something good is coming your way.
ReplyDeleteI keep getting older, but I have my doubts as to whether I'm getting any wiser. One things for certain I know is that you should never, ever go into the basement or answer the phone when you're home alone in the house. :D
ReplyDelete12:34 and 2:34, a.m. or p.m. doesn't matter, I always seem to be in the bathroom at those times. I take it as a sign....
ReplyDelete... that my bladder has me trained.
Oh, gawd. Now you've started it again.
ReplyDeleteI used to wake up at 3:33 or 4:44 or 2:22. Always the same three numbers. It was about to drive me mad.
Then, for some reason, it went away.
And now, you've started it again.
Damn you, Pearl.
I seem to wake up around 3:10 every morning and then run to pee. Some of my female friends say the same so maybe it's a sex thing. I do find some things a little disconcerting. For a few days after my husband died, I would get calls from his cell phone, which was in the cabinet with a dead battery and had been there for a few weeks! My cell would read "Clays cell" telling me who is calling. My friends staying with me witnessed it. They told me he was telling me he still cared and was letting me know it's ok. It was so spooky.
ReplyDeleteI used to get up in the wee hours regularly, to wee of course, then I stopped drinking coffee after 5pm and slept all night. Now I have a cat waking me up in the wee hours, so he can go out and wee. Refuses to use the litter tray now that he has discovered the great outdoors.
ReplyDeleteHa! In your face, Hollywood!
ReplyDeleteI was sure you were going to tell us a story about the great beyond, because I know you, girl, or thought I did. Most of your far-out stories involved voices or other phenomena that helped you, as I recall. Warned you, got you out of danger. So I though, "Hm, maybe there's something to this stuff." Now I find that even you blame the movies. What am I to think?
ReplyDelete