17 avril 2006

I smell a conspiracy

My insomnia problem has become really really bad lately. And I mean really really bad. But I'm not here to complain.
Really really bad though. Actually it doesn't even qualify as insomnia anymore. It qualifies as insomnia-plus-fitful-sleep-when-I-do-get-some-actual-shut-eye-time. Hardly resting. But I'm not here to complain.
For instance. Friday and Saturday, I must have had about seven hours sleep in
total. Now I'm not here to complain but let me grump a little. Sunday morning, right as I felt I was finally falling asleep for good, at around eight*, the phone rang. Who goes back to sleep after the phone has rung at eight in the morning on a Sunday? And -- more to the point here -- honestly, who phones at that time?! My dear dear brother, that's who.
Now, my brother hardly ever phones, so it's always a pleasure. When he does phone, though, he certainly picks his times.
Case in point. Fourteen years ago, we were sharing a flat. Fourteen years ago... wow.
One evening, he goes out on a date sort of thing, saying "We're only going for a drink, I won't be too long." OK, whatever, dude, your life after all. Midnight, I'm on the phone with my friend, my brother is not back yet. We're not really worried. His life, yes? Next morning, I wake up at 6:30 as my brother walks through the door. That your idea of "not long"? I could have been worried, I go. Hardly convincing, right? Exactly.
In the evening of the same day, he goes back out again, adding, "I don't think I'll be late tonight, but don't wait up, eh?". Sure. Enjoy.
I go to sleep. Suddenly, in the middle of my blissful state of not thinking, not seeing, not doing anything except with my subconscious, the phone rings. It's 3:15 in the morning. The only thing I can think is ohmygodohmygodohmygod, something happened to Brad**,
ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I still answer, because my courage knows no boundaries.
It's my brother. Again. Or already. My brother phones to say, get this, "hey, listen, I just wanted to let you know, I don't know when I'm coming home. I'm at Jennifer's**. But don't worry, OK?" Brad**! I was asleep! I had better things to do than worry, OK?
Apparently, he's never learned. Or he has, but he enjoys hurting me. Which is a possibility.

* I'm not here to complain, but you may feel sorry for me if you feel so enclined.
** Names changed to protect the innocent. And I am current with what's going on. My brother's not dating Jennifer anymore either.