A couple days ago, the NaBloPoMo prompt was, “Are you a morning person or a night owl?” I fell asleep on the couch at 8 p.m. in the middle of writing my post. I guess that answers that.
I’ve never been able to stay up late. As a kid I was always the first person to fall asleep at slumber parties, and I’d wake up the next morning hours before everyone else. At least it gave me time to retrieve my underwear from the freezer and thaw them in the microwave before everyone else woke up.
My inability to stay up late drives Dave crazy. He knows if we start a movie after 9 p.m. I’ll probably fall asleep, so he’ll make me a big mug of coffee and then poke me every 2 minutes and ask if I’m still awake. When I tell him I’m awake he doesn’t believe me, so I’ll recite the last few lines of dialogue to prove that I wasn’t sleeping, and then he gets mad at me because he can’t hear. Eventually I fall asleep, and he vows to never watch a movie with me again. WHO WANTS TO COME OVER AND WATCH A MOVIE WITH US?
My parents do the same thing, by the way. If you were to walk in on us halfway through a movie, you’d probably think you were uncovering a crime scene (if it weren’t for my dad’s snoring). After about half an hour the living room is covered with unconscious bodies flung over armchairs, facedown on the floor, strung out across the couch. And then we all wake up as the credits roll and pretend we didn’t just sleep through the whole thing. Is cinematic narcolepsy a thing? Because I think we have it.