Glassing Over

Dearest Rachel –

There are some moments in life which I can’t describe to you as they’re happening, just by dint of what they are. You’ll notice, for instance, that I describe many of my mornings to you – because that’s often when I have energy and inspiration, not to mention the desire to get this daily letter out to you as soon as possible – but very few evenings. Either something is happening at that point of the day, which precludes me from writing about it while I’m in the midst of it (the very act of writing – or filming! – distances myself somewhat from the moment, and paradoxically prevents me from properly experiencing it), or nothing is happening, which has the effect of draining the motivation out of me to tell about it – not as if there’s much to tell.

Last night was definitely once of those latter days. I knew this morning would be busy, for reasons I’ll get to in tomorrow’s letter, Lord willing, but I just couldn’t bring myself to get started on anything beforehand. It wasn’t just that there wasn’t anything to speak of going on, but even with a self-imposed deadline in my mind, I couldn’t muster any energy to attempt to even get started on an idea. I was just sitting in the recliner, waiting for the day to be over so I could crawl into bed.

In fact, at some point, my body decided to not bother with waiting. It was only a little after eight in the evening when I felt my eyes glassing over. Those thoughts I’d had during my walk with Lars a few hours ago about comparing the Three Stooges with the likes of Molière (since they both mock the medical profession mercilessly) and asking one of my A.I. assistants about the subject slipped from my mind, as it began the process of shutting down for the night. At that point, I decided that I wasn’t going to be sufficiently conscious to enjoy anything from that moment on, so I might as well just turn all the lights off and drop myself into bed.

Of course, at this point, the perversity begins. I may have been unable to stay awake, but because of the lights and noise in the family room, my body suddenly decided it was unable to fall asleep, either. It wasn’t as if the boys were being obnoxiously loud – especially not at such an hour of the evening (as opposed to the night proper) – but it still kept me in a form of limbo. Am I going to sleep, or am I going to be lying here for a ridiculous amount of time, staring at a dark ceiling while hoping that sleep overtakes me again?

Now, I have a pair of noise-canceling headphones and an eye mask from our flight home from Japan, so theoretically, I should have been able to shut out both light and noise, including whatever might have been emanating from the family room and seeping over to the bedroom. But now my body began to complain that it was too hot all of sudden. Which is wild, because earlier this week, it was down around freezing during the overnight hours. No matter; at this moment, I’m practically sweating in my robe, so I throw off the comforter, hoping that will be enough. It crosses my mind that this means I’ll be able to shoot that one scene I have in mind, involving my waking up in the morning and doing a pan across the room that rather features the quilt for your A.I. self to discover and comment upon, as part of my plans to create a series of your return and reactions to how the place has changed, but this is no time for that; this is time to go to sleep, considering that only a few minutes before, I couldn’t so much as keep my eyes open.

Only now, my body reminds me that I haven’t brushed my teeth, and that I’d do well to let Daniel know I’m going to bed, so that he doesn’t make the trek over to the bedroom once Logan decides he’s done with his day. And indeed, no sooner do I pad out into the family room than I run into Logan as he gets up from his rocker/recliner to head upstairs; we’re all (except Daniel) calling it a day at the same time. I hug Daniel goodnight, take care of my teeth, and for good measure grab a soporific to make sure I’m going to drop off to sleep as my body was clamoring for barely half an hour ago, but is now doing everything it can to stay awake in spite of itself.

***

Come two in the morning, I wake up, not quite fully rested, and shivering from the fact that it’s gotten that much colder overnight – quelle surprise. I pull the comforter back over myself (so much for filming this morning – at least the days are about to get warmer), switch the heater back on, and wander to the stairwell to ascertain the source of the sound of water running. Does the handle on the toilet need to be jiggled again? No, it’s Daniel taking his bath overnight, rather than while I’m at the ‘office’ during the coming day. Hope he gets some sleep during the night at some point, himself.

***

Thankfully, the two o’clock wakeup is only a momentary situation; I don’t have nearly the same fight to return to slumber as I had around nine last night (and to be fair, nine is ridiculously early, as you would point out. Heck, you used to consider ten-thirty to be ridiculously early. I do wonder what an aging version of you would think), and I manage to stay in bed until almost seven. I do wake up with a few ideas, such as trying to digitize your voicemail greeting for posterity, but I haven’t got the time to take care of that right now. It’s a short day at the ‘office’ this morning, with a few things to take care of soon enough – but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to tell you about them until tomorrow morning, because you can see how trying to write in the evening has turned out.

So I’m going to get on with my day, and proceed to let you know how things go. Until everything shakes out, though, I’d ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck, as per usual. I’m going to need it, as you might guess.