possumcowboy: (Default)
Ok, so it isn't sunny, and it isn't Minsk.

Spending the night at my mom's house after a second Thanksgiving dinner. Why am I up? My pillow is thicker than a gorilla tampon. I sleep on my side, right? So, my head has been jacked up at an angle so that my shoulder has been crammed up against my eardrum. I'll be surprised if there isn't earwax on my shirt in the morning.

As it happens, things change and things stay the same. My old room, where Leah and I are sleeping separately in my old twin beds, has been remodeled. The curtains with the pheasants and the dark green carpet with the vomit stains from my childhood are replaced with blinds and hardwood floors. My dark-stained pine bookcase has been replaced with a peach-colored table with hand-painted pastel flowers on it. At least my mirror still has the Culver Military Academy sticker on it. My point, though, is that extra pillows are still in the hall closet. I found one that suits my preference much better, and as soon as I manage to be done whining about being a guest and treated damned near like royalty by my mother, I'll be snuggled up with it and back to breathing warm, moist compressed air from the mask strapped to my head.

The CPAP machine; before (and without), I would twitch and thrash and make a snoring/snarling/gagging sound while my breathing stopped more than 60 times per hour. Now (and with) I sleep peacefully and quietly through the night. According to the memory card in the device, my breathing stops an average of two times per hour, which is in the low-normal range.

I'm sort of hungry. I only ate one plate of second Thanksgiving, after all. I may have to take a lap through the kitchen and garage refrigerators and see if I can find the rest of that turkey carcass. We only really did damage to one side of it.


possumcowboy: (Default)

April 2015

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