Sleep Notes (R Rating, so beware [although it's probably only PG or PG-13 if you're European])

Group of guys standing below my window at 12:30 a.m.: as much as I like eavesdropping, for the love of Pete. Shut. UP. You are grossing me out—I don't need to hear about your marginal sexual escapades when I am trying to sleep. Or ever, really. Especially you, Yelling Guy. There's no way your girlfriend...paid you some special attention for two hours while you watched Full Metal Jacket. More likely is that you fantasized about it for two hours while watching Full Metal Jack-Off. Everybody listening to you knows the truth, so give it up and let me get some damn sleep.

My subconscious is staging a rebellion: sometimes I think my sleeping brain likes to boss me around, sort of all, "And now you will like...this guy." And suddenly I'm in a dream kissing some kid I never gave two thoughts to otherwise and then babbling incoherently the next time I see him awake. Or it's like, "You haven't been nice enough to your sister lately, so here's this, asshole," and I dream that my sister is dead and then I wake up and send her a postcard with a butt on it (seriously, who wouldn't find that hilarious?). One time I dreamed I was dying of lupus. I don't even know what lupus is, nor what my subconscious was trying to direct me to do, but yo. I was tres surprised when I actually woke up.

Best sleep attire: the world's best pajama pants, which made me happy last night because they were misplaced a while ago and I finally found them at the back of my sock drawer. These pajama pants are the best because they are the most ridiculously ugly pajama pants that you could possibly imagine, so I just giggle whenever I have them on. They are gold satin with patches of leopard print and patches of tiger stripes, all overlaid at random by giant magenta flowers. It's awful. I got them several years ago from my lover, Target. They look particularly hot (hott?) with my technicolor pig slippers. I wore them with a pink tanktop, which is not really sufficiently awful to go with the other two, but I am working on that.

Question: at what point are you too old to sleep in a twin bed? Whatever point that is, I have to be approaching it. Too bad I won't be able to afford a new bed for a MILLION years.

Things I do in my sleep that will be annoying to any future bedpartner: talk, grind my teeth, thrash around, and hog the covers. In college I hated one of my roommates and was constantly paranoid that I was going to say something about it in my sleep. I don't think I ever did, but who knows. Things that I do not do in my sleep: snore, drool, or walk. Probably it will just be best if we have beds like Laura and Rob on The Dick Van Dyke Show, except I am too old to sleep in a twin, so that's a conundrum. Giant master bedroom, two doubles. It's a plan.