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|The luxury of sleep|
|Written by Cindy-Lou Dale|
|Tuesday, 07 August 2007 19:00|
After a day of driving to other destinations within Germany and photographing stuff along the way I collapsed onto my hotel bed tonight weary to the bone. In fact I fell asleep whilst downloading photographs. The bite of my egg mayo sandwich was still resting in my mouth when I woke with a start 20 minutes later when my daughter immerged from the bathroom. Now, at 2 a.m., I've tired of making animal shapes against the wall, using the moon as a spotlight. My daughter's deep breathing is a little irritating, probably because I envy how she can fall asleep so easily, or maybe I find it annoying as I need total silence before I can even consider sleep; that and the fact that I've always got so much going on my mind, the least of which is sleep.
Then I got the book out I'm reading at the moment and was just drifting off to sleep when my daughter sat bolt upright in the bed next to me and mumbled something about Marilyn Manson and then promptly collapsed back onto her pillow.
Now the itching has started. When I get really, really tired I have imaginary fleas crawling under my skin and in my hair and no matter what I do or how many showers I take or water I drink, they'll only leave after I've had a few hours sleep.
It's going to be a perilous journey home, no doubt undertaken with all the windows open and Black Sabbath blasting the blurry eyed insomnia out of my head.