I
don't have nearly as much hair as I used to. Well, not on my head
anyway. For some reason it is growing out of my shoulders – that's
a great place for a mop of hair. Many other parts of my body that
used to be hair free are now sprouting a full-blown lawn of follicles
as well.
My
eyebrows are so long a family of pheasents could nest in them and I
would likely never notice. My belly is larger and my patience
thinner.
I
could go on and on, but one of things that annoys me the most about
stacking on the years is how tired I get.
There
was a time not too long ago — actually it was a long time ago, but
please let me live in the illusion – when sleep was something to be
done when I had nothing better to do.
Long
gone are the days when I could indulge in social activities well into
the night and pop out of bed early the next morning, ready to take on
the world.
The
year I turned 18, I averaged about four hours sleep a night.
Thank
goodness for high school where I could at least get some rest.
I
worked part time, hung out with my friends part time and slept some
of the time. Life was good.
Fast
forward 30 or so years and a friend of mine hit the Big 5-0. A social
gathering in his honour was organized and we all joined together to
bug him about being the first of us to reach the half-century mark.
That
gathering lasted until 1 a.m. In my teen years and well into my 20s,
1 a.m. meant it was time to start thinking about the after party.
At
my friend's birthday, 1 a.m. meant I was well past my bedtime.
The
next day, I was downright tuckered out from a night of vigorous
activity so late into the darkness.
In
my youth, I can remember thinking sleep was a waste of time. Why
would I want to sleep when there is so much fun to be had. Life is
too short to sleep it a way.
Nowadays,
my attitude toward sleep has taken a quantum shift. Now, I like
sleep, I enjoy it, I look forward to it. It has become one of my
favourite things to do.
Late
night TV is now 10 p.m. and anything beyond 11 p.m. is just not worth
watching.
There
have been days when I could not wait to go to sleep.
The
party used to beckon me like a siren calling from the deep to join
her until the sun came up. It was a call I answered more often than
not.
Now
my bed calls me not like a young, beautiful siren, but as a
comforting old friend that is always there for me, always ready to
envelop me in the soft folds of blankets and pillow.
And
if I do ignore the call of my old friend for too long, there is a
price to pay. Unlike the days of my youth where I could pop out of
bed on four hours sleep and be ready to tackle the day four hours
sleep now means I am ready to tackle the couch for a nap the first
chance I get.
But
like I have said before, the alternative to getting older sucks so I
will endure hairy shoulders and the need to inject coffee directly
into my bloodstream just to get through the day for as long as I can.
copyright 2014, Darren Handschuh
copyright 2014, Darren Handschuh
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