Insomnia

Recently, I wake up at just past 1 a.m. and lay there, listening to the two cats and the man next to me compete enthusiastically in loud breathing contests. I stay there, shifting in my carved-out space, until after 3, around which time I drift back into sleep for another hour. Then finally I just get up. At that point, I am too foggy to write, too awake to snooze, too lazy to find the remote for the DVD player so I can watch the entire first season of Mind of Mencia yet again. Sleep has always been my specialty, a skill I've prided myself in being able to perform almost anywhere and any time. Apparently, I have lost my touch.