THIS MORNING my cat decided he wanted breakfast at 4:41. I know because I keep my cell phone next to my bed just in case. In case of what I’m not sure, but anyway I could see the time quite clearly when Lurch came in and started his meowing. Despite my throwing a pillow at him he persisted, enough to get me out of bed, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Naturally I stayed awake because it’s impossible to go back to sleep once you’ve dealt with the contents of a can of cat food. Sadly this situation is not at all uncommon, which might explain why I run out of steam most afternoons.
When I had a dog I would sometimes wonder how much fatter I’d be if I didn’t have to walk him three times a day. Usually I had such thoughts while we were wandering around in a blizzard or a thunderstorm, just to give it a positive spin. (I find it helpful to consider dire situations as weight loss opportunities.) After Rufus died I found out: seven pounds fatter.
Now I’m wondering how much more I might accomplish in life if only I could get more shut-eye. For all I know, sleep deprivation is impacting my creativity. (Maybe that’s why so few of my paintings sell.) I’m willing to bet that Picasso’s cat let him sleep in.
Andrea Rouda blogs at The Daily Droid.