woodstoveThe fan in our woodstove turned on and I suddenly became drowsy as the grating voices of late night TV suddenly hushed into breaths of warm, dry air. The cat with an abnormally long tail leapt onto the mantle, knocking down a thick green candle, then, scared by her own clumsiness, leapt away again into the dim shadows behind the couch. One thirteen AM.
I kicked the loosely crocheted blanket off my feet and reached lazily for the remote, finding the power button with my thumb and watching with relief as the picture was suddenly replaced by black. Bliss. Tiredness is a constant presence when one is an insomniac, but the feeling of sleepiness, of feeling calm enough to actually lie down and drift off, is rare and cherished. Overwhelmed by such sleepiness, I jogged heavily up the stairs and into my cold, uncomfortable bed. The twenty year-old mattress creaked and my blankets rustled slightly as I slid down to the foot and curled into a loose ball, the only position I've ever been able to s