Sleep paralysis, eh? Thus sayeth the internets and Web MD. The weird thing is, I have the symptoms, but none of the causes. We'll chalk this dysfunction up to metabolic or hormonal change, which is akin to blaming the government for problems, right? Another vague, all-encompassing cause of things.
Here's more than you need to know about my metabolism: it's pretty high as a general rule. I eat enormous amounts of food, yet my weight only fluctuates about 5 pounds once a month when I bloat n' flow. I've been a hot flash my entire life--feeling excessively cold is a sure sign I'm sick or getting sick. I get so overheated when I sleep that waking up sweaty happens to me all the time. I keep expecting that "change" to start happening, but so far the only signs of aging on this old body are external--some grey hair and deeper lines on my face. For now, I'm ruling out hormones, too. The only big change around these parts is the weather--from cold to colder as we settle into winter. My hunt for a cause of my sleep paralysis comes up empty, as does my hunt for a cure, namely "treat sleep disorders." Um, isn't sleep paralysis a sleep disorder? That's like saying "If thirsty, cure thirst." Not terribly detailed or helpful.
Speaking of hunting for a cure, the heat in our bedroom isn't working and there's a crew of guys in my basement as I type this trying to get to the bottom of things. In March we had a new boiler installed. For some reason "Zone 3" gets no hot water. Our freezing cold bedroom is heavenly--to me and only me. No joke: we put extra blankets on only one side of the bed during the winter, and it's not my side. How many men does it take to fix a radiant heat system? So far we're up to four...
And speaking of hunting, this weekend gun season opens and Mr. B is old enough to join his big brother and dad out in the woods. To say he's excited is an understatement. Since his trip to Fleet Farm last week, he's been trying on his new blaze orange duds almost every day. That kid is JACKED UP to get in the woods. He told his dad last night, "Only four more days until I'm a man." Later Mr. D asked me, "He knows he doesn't get to shoot anything yet, right?"
While three go sit in the woods and carry out the grand Wisconsin tradition of deer hunting, I'm left back at the ranch with Mr. G (too young) and Jax (terrified of guns) (plus, you don't take a dog deer hunting). It'll only be a couple years and then Mr. G will join the hunt. Then I'll have to hunt for something to do while I'm all alone. But this year I'll stay busy ferrying Mr. G to baseball and basketball, which is fine by me. I've never had any desire to join the hunting party. I don't object to it, deer are prolific around here, and when prepared properly, delicious with a side of potatoes. It's just that I can think of about 723 other things I'd rather do in my free time and sitting in the cold woods propped up against a tree isn't one of them. Yet, that would cool me off and help me sleep well, wouldn't it?