I've not always been good at sleeping. A good sleep, in my world, would be a solid 7 hour slumber. Aside from pockets of playing fitness guru where I drill-sergeant myself with a complete physical ass-kicking and my body is so exhausted sleep comes easy, I've tended to be wakeful. Like every 2 to 3 hours. Maybe I'll go to the loo, or self-destructively raid the cupboards or simply scan the clock and doze off again. Thus I am grateful when a deep sleep is experienced.
In past I've labelled myself easily distracted by external stimuli. However I don't subscribe to labels anymore and I just like to be in the know, awake or asleep!
Given my regular sleep patterns, it's been glaring when circumstances have occurred that for the life of me, I just can't stay awake.
On two occasions I was at a hot rod show. My partner and I arrived the night before the event and tented with a few other participants. Early the next morning over 300 magnificent machines rolled in filling the field we were camped on the edge of. The purr of those modified engines had me sawing logs til my subconcious curiosity was piqued enough to rise and get visual.
Next odd place - camping at the lake. Granted here I was completely inebriated though that doesn't always guarantee a long, rejuvenating sleep. I crashed around 2am not to wake until 11am. That's 9 hours people! Both times this happened I seriously checked more than one clock. Weird.
This one's definitely got something spiritual going on. The Hospital. Awaiting Surgery. Having the hardware removed from my ankle that I'd broken 2 years prior when blackberry-picking (now there's something to blog about). It was day surgery and once settled in pre-op -- and no I had not been given anything to make me drowsy -- I found myself nodding off. I was woken twice over the next couple hours, once for vitals and an IV, and the other to be wheeled to the O.R. Again in the corridor I dozed off, this time to be nudged by the surgeon. He woke me up so the anaesthetic-guy could put me to sleep.
And the strangest times I've drifted off... when I'm getting tattooed. I've spent 7 blissful afternoons gettin' inked. Each time it is less painful, and after the last tatt session I was more relaxed and in la-la land than any spa treatment I've received...
I'm not entirely sure what the deal is though I've got a couple full-freak explanations, but does it matter? Nope. Just another addition to the List of Wondrous Me.
Night-night. Sleep well.