(bonnng) 3:15 and all is not well

After so much trouble with insomnia, I’ve started to understand how to function the best I can with the little sleep I actually get. Since two out of three of the newest medications I’ve been taking also cause drowsiness, I’ve finally been able to fall asleep within a reasonable amount of time and get better quality sleep even though the quantity may be lacking.

I take my sleep very seriously and I have little tolerance for anything that disrupts my slumber. Once I’ve been awakened, it’s nearly impossible to find my sleep groove for the rest of the night. There are measures in place to help me along: a sleep mask, earplugs or iPod, an empty bladder, and those wonderful Breathe-Right nose strips.

It seems that all this week there has been a disturbance in the sleep fairy’s mojo. For whatever cosmic reason, I often wake up, briefly, at exactly 3:15. It must have something to do with my meds and my sleep cycle, but it is a little weird and it doesn’t explain the goings on this week.

On Saturday night I was awakened by the sound of a cat trying to puke out a hairball the size of a small rodent. Cats are very dramatic vomiters, for sure. The sound was loud and broke through my sleep. A few seconds later, I heard what sounded like the cat gagging out volumes of kitty vomit in an undetermined location near the bed. I made a mental note to warn my husband when he got up at dawn to let the dog out so he wouldn’t walk in anything nasty on his way through the bedroom. Of course, this meant I didn’t sleep well since I was afraid I would sleep through his getting up and not be able to alert him to the possible cat-produced hazards on the floor.

Not to worry: My own alarm was still set for 5:00 from two days before when I had to get up early for a work obligation. Nothing like an alarm clock shattering your dreams at 5:00 on a Sunday morning.

Monday night turned out to be an identical repeat of Sunday night. In addition to dealing with the cat, this time my husband woke up as the cat started gagging. The cat was on the night table where he was hovering over my husband’s head like some crazed feline gargoyle who was about to spew something evil right on my husband’s head.

My husband sat up and attempted to push the cat to the floor. In response, the cat panicked, dug his claws into the table cover, and went to the floor taking the clock, lamp, and telephone with him. Yeah, that’ll smack the sleepy right out of your head. As if that weren’t bad enough, again I had forgotten about the damn alarm clock on my side of the bed and it dutifully woke me up precisely at 5:00.

Last night, we were ready. We put the cat out of the room. I made sure to adjust my alarm clock. We were tired, so we went to bed a little early. I slept. I really slept. Until the phone rang.

It was about 1:45 in the morning. My husband leaped out of bed and ran to the kitchen (because god forbid he should pick up the bedroom phone and risk answering without knowing who was calling—kitchen phone has caller ID, bedroom phone does not). We both had the same thought—one of our parents has been rushed to the hospital and we needed to fly back East immediately.

No. The caller ID indicated it was an out-of-state number with a name we didn’t recognize. My husband came back to bed and we tried to get back to sleep.

This event repeated itself three more times, with the final call coming at 3:15. My husband (who was still running to the kitchen phone each time—let’s just blame that on slumber-induced disorientation, shall we?) tried to answer the phone but just missed it. There were no voice mails. This time, I joined him in the kitchen and looked at the caller ID myself. I noted the area code, and while my husband headed back to bed, I pulled out the telephone book and flipped to the page listing state information.

The caller was in Arkansas. My best guess is that the first call came very soon after the bars closed in that part of the country. This was obviously a case of drinking and dialing. I don’t know who this guy was trying to reach, but he was quite adamant and inept about it. Since he made repeated calls, my husband and I were both awakened again and again—a particularly cruel sort of sleep deprivation.

This morning my husband announced that he had an idea. He said he’s going to get up about 1:00 in the morning tonight and repeatedly dial the Arkansas number every 25 minutes for about two hours and then go back to bed.

Today we are both profoundly grouchy. I am quasi-delirious from three nights of interrupted sleep. It looks like I even wandered out of the house and on to work without my purse. Of course. I have to drive to appointments all afternoon.

I think that after midnight, all phones should require an Interlock device so callers cannot dial while under the influence.