There is nothing worse than waking up far earlier than you
I initially start by lying in bed, hoping that I will somehow drift off to sleep again. However, my body is against me: the cortisol, which builds up its levels during sleep, is now flooding through my bloodstream, helpfully telling all the moving parts "It's time to go!".
Closing my eyes doesn't work. I wonder what time it really is? Reach over, look at the clock: 0230. Well, that's just too early to be getting up.
Back to laying flat on my back, eyes closed, trying to breathe deeply. I become aware of The Ravishing Mrs. TB asleep next to me. Hmm. Don't want to wake her up this early. Got to get back to sleep - otherwise I'll be tired today.
Sleep is still not coming. I keep hoping that my lying there will somehow give me one of those sleep events which makes it feel like you didn't sleep but you did. Reach over, look at the clock again: 0300.
Maybe going somewhere else will help. I get up as quietly as I am able, hopefully not creaking the bed too much or letting in cold air. Walk slowly over the floor, trying to avoid the known creaks and shaking the dresser too much. Do I sleep in the unused bedroom or the couch? Couch is better - if I have to get up, I'll already be there (I have now conceded I may not go back to sleep).
Rummage through blankets in the dark. Need to find one that covers me and is heavy. Fine, I've got it. Off to the couch to lay down. Now the pillows aren't co-operating: the one under my head is too firm - fine, I'll toss it off. The one at my feet is squishing me a bit; I'll work my toes under it.
Okay. Head is flat feeling the fabric lines through my hair, blanket is over me, feet are under the pillow. Lay there quietly, eyes closed, hands folded, waiting for sleep to come. Hear the sound of the wind blowing outside: will it rain today? Nope, doesn't matter; I need to get at least one more hour of sleep...
Nothing is happening. Sigh. Look at the clock again. Oh look, it's 0320. Not feeling tired in the least. Wind is still blowing. Books are behind the couch on my left, peering at me from over the cushions. The computer is behind me, mocking me that I could be writing instead of laying there doing nothing.
Well, why not. I was up anyway...