Passing Out at 8pm is Awesome

It’s 1am. Why am I awake?

About halfway through the day it occurred to me that I was sick. Which, for the past three years, has become a rare event. I was violently ill last Christmas Day and missed the holiday lying in bed puking. Don’t feel bad for me. I still received all the gifts. Wouldn’t that be awful if my parents had returned my presents because I wasn’t downstairs opening them with family? Even at thirty-six I would have been devastated. Do that to an eight-year old and you’ll create a future sociopath.

The bummer about realizing I was sick earlier today is that I still had a ten mile bike ride home. I piped in some psychedelic tunes and floated along the lakefront path. Still drenched with sweat as usual, I enjoyed being non-present as my body pedaled home. In my mind I was in the lotus position taking rips off a group hookah with The Beatles from 1967.

It should be noted that I can’t even touch my toes, much less achieve nirvana through yoga poses. Also, I don’t use drugs or ever drink. I’m boring.

Once home I went to the couch and did a little of nothing for two hours. It was 8pm. Too early to fall asleep for the night? Not for this guy. In bed I’ve been for the past five hours.

To answer the initial question – I’m up because I’ve committed to write each day. I will be returning to sleep momentarily.

The best part of being divorced is the re-realization that I’m the most important person in the universe. Some may tell you it’s the opportunity to fall in love with someone new. And that’s okay, I guess. My girlfriend Jessica is a real peach. She lives in Georgia, by the way, and I wanted to try out that expression.

But when you live with someone, married or not, you cannot always pass out at 8pm. The other person might drag you to a non-refundable French cooking class. Maybe it’s your turn to do the laundry. Or it’s date night and your turn to drive to Applebees.

And what if you have children? Well, if you’re married and your spouse is a member of the human race (Are humans a race? I’m pretty sure that’s not right.) you dump the children on her/him. “Hey, if those monsters make even a peep I will storm out and tell them Santa Claus died in a fire today.” Then, your spouse or partner takes care of the kids and you pass out with a chestful of Vicks Vapor Rub.

But what if you’re a single parent? You can’t just go to sleep when sick. Those kids need to get fed and stuff. You might have to change diapers (gross) or help them with their geometry homework (gross). Plus, lunches and laundry for tomorrow can’t be pushed. In short – you’re screwed.  Oh, and your ex-partner is probably a shithead and you have deal with their nonsense daily.

To sum up – I was able to sleep in my own filth this evening because I didn’t feel well. My cat and dog, the only other beings in the home, were thrilled to join me. I’ll wake up tomorrow morning, and while the condo will be messy, nobody will see it. And, as a result, I’ll be better by tomorrow evening. I pumped in ten hours of rest, and I’ll probably do the same tomorrow.

No chance a single parent can do this. So, they won’t recover as fast because they’ll have to go to a soccer game and cheer on their little one. Or take the Brownie troop on a tour of the Playtex factory (I have no idea what Brownie troops do).

Single moms and dads, I am sad you are no longer the center of the universe. May you find a handsome benefactor who will whisk the children away to a palatial estate whenever you are sick. Hey, those rich people have to date someone – go to the yacht club and skank it up until you catch someone’s eye with a III at the end of their name.

I have a III at the end of my name, but my estate is 1250 square feet with a few hardwood boards that have been ruined with cat pee. Find another III.

photo credit: Great Beyond via photopin cc