Meet Burt, My Insomnia

Many suffer from insomnia, but not many people ever talk about what their insomnia looks like. Some commercials tout insomnia as a frustrated man in a wrinkled, old-fashioned pajama set, trying desperately to count enough sheep as they jump over a fence to satisfy the sleep gods. Other commercials visualize insomnia as a blurry-eyed college student cramming for finals as he pours another Red Bull down his throat to intentionally keep sleep at bay, while he "gets some wings" (and, in one commercial, also gets some lovin'!). In a different vein, some singers make insomnia out to be a passionate gesture of pining over the one you love, who barely notices you, as you listen to sad music and write sad poetry as an offering to those who deem if sleep is in your future.

I wish these were the pictures that my brain conjures up on nights like these when I know I have to get up very early tomorrow, but just can't get my mind to shut down. But no, of course not. Instead, my insomnia takes the form of a garden gnome, very much like the Travelocity mascot, except it is dressed in all red and black and has glowing, fiery eyes that bore into my soul.

My insomnia (I'm not sure of his real name, but he will respond to Burt) likes to play hide and seek, but in a perverted, demented manner. Burt will disappear on me really quickly, leaving me yawning and stretching, thinking it is time to head off to bed, but that is where he gets me. Just as I head to my bedroom, my mind begins to scroll through all of the things I didn't finish today and everything that must now be accomplished tomorrow and I suddenly see Burt lunge up from under the bed, his beady, flashing eyes telling me immediately that sleep has just abandoned me. Tag, I'm it. And who would blame sleep for running away if there was a scary little gnome waiting for it every time it arrived? Not me.

So, as I try to get my mind to power off, Burt curls up around my neck, playing like he will pet my hair (something that makes me really relaxed), but then he slams his pointy gnome hat into my head and hits restart. Not fair. I just want to sleep, Burt, not take your demented little soul. I wonder if he feeds off of my sleepless hours, devouring my begrudged awake hours like they are a twenty-four hour all-you-can-eat buffet. If so, he should not go hungry tonight. :)

If I had a helper monkey to aide me in grading, maybe I could teach the monkey to attack Burt. Knowing Burt, though, he would just keep the monkey awake. Perhaps I can get Burt a Facebook or Match.com profile so he can find someone else to keep awake. I can picture the posting now: Burt enjoys long (and I mean LONG) walks on the beach at 2 am, and he won't be bothered by staying up late talking, watching old movies, and making love; that's just his style. He won't have much to do with you during the day, but at night, you won't know how to get rid of him. Ladies, call now before this catch is gone (and so is your sanity, due to lack of sleep).

Seriously, if anyone is interested, Burt is available; I think I've just about kicked him to the curb tonight...