Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
Macbeth, Act II, Scene II
Maureen here. My dog is now a very elderly lady; she has to get up at least once during the night to go out. I am a middle-aged woman; I usually have to get up at least once during the night to go to the bathroom. Our needs do not usually coincide. Thus, I have been stumbling around during the daytime with sleep deprivation.
Thanksgiving night was a particular horror show. Joon had an upset tummy and had to go out five times between 11 and 3:30, then was up again at 6:30. I stood in the yard with her then, looking at the full moon setting over the cove, shining golden in the reflected sunrise, with tears in my eyes from sheer tiredness.
But lo! Last night, we both slept straight through. I had actual REM sleep dreams. Today is chilly and gray with drizzle and fog. And I feel great.