Lost Time

I'm in a bad sleep loop. When I can't sleep I get crabby, and, man, right now I'm walking sideways. A couple of nights of shaky shut-eye and bam, I'm out of rhythm. Look at me now, tetchy, irritable, scratchy, this is no way to be. I'm as likable as herpes. So tonight, I've got to do some hard sleeping to make up for it, and I'm determined, boy, I'm like a nodding dog all day. Until my head hits the pillow that is, then, nothing, I can't sleep a wink. Nothing will stop my mind from wittering, my thoughts ramble on like an old man dribbling in his armchair. No panic, it's only 11.45. Two hours later I'm not quite so forgiving. Shutupshutupshutup! I scream, hitting my head repeatedly until my hands hurt. I press the light on my digital clock, it says 3.43am. That's it. Wup! I throw the clock down as hard as I can and it shatters, batteries land in the sock drawer, the face flies into a jumper, buttons roll under the door and the whole main section vanishes, popping out of existence before my very eyes*. I stop and pause for a moment. I can hear the wind through the window, and I feel stupid. It starts raining. I go back to bed, listening to the droplets drum the glass. In the morning when I wake, my clock is still broken. This is not what I'd hoped for, I thought time was a great healer.

*it turned up three days later in a pair of underpants.