Midnight travelogue

I don’t fall asleep easily (if you don’t count the last fifteen minutes of a television drama).  

I’m jealous my husband.  He falls asleep on the way down to meet his pillow.  His heavy breathing (not because I’m such a catch), from of his sleep apnea machine, is reminiscent of Darth Vader.  I tried sneaking upstairs and getting a head start, but I don’t fall asleep well under pressure.

I shared my sleep disorder with my cousin Sharon who has the same problem.  Between the two of us, we’ve tried warm milk and baths, new beds, tryptophan sandwiches, and cute little numbered sheep frolicking over a fence in a field of green.  Still we lay there, eyes wide open. 

She’s come up with a new tactic — naming all the states.  I gave it a try last night.  From Alabama to Wyoming, I named all the states in alphabetical order along with their capitals.  I remembered every one of them.  (Right?  That’s another question.)  Did you know there are 4 A’s, 8 M’s, 8 N’s?  Then I tried to name them in the order they were admitted to the union.  I got confused somewhere between Indiana, Louisiana, and Illinois. 

Then it was onto Canada and their provinces, Central America, and South America.  By the time I made it to Europe, I could have almost flown there.  It was now 2 a.m.  I finally fell asleep in Africa trying to remember if there was still a Zanzibar and Tanganyika. 

Thank heavens, I just about to name the books of the Old Testament alphabetically.