Tag Archives: Sleep

Microwaves, smartphones, peanut butter, and sleep walking

For some reason my sleep-walking has become worse over the past few weeks. Besides the usual things like rearranging the towels, or being found sitting on the edge of the bed, or waking up on the toilet, I have awoken in the kitchen after microwaving my smartphone.

When my husband Matt has found me sitting on the edge of the bed, I tend to be talking to myself. Sometimes he can understand what I am saying, but mostly I am mumbling gibberish. Eventually I return to laying down in the bed, and in the morning have no recollection of the incident.

I can understand being asleep on the loo. Obviously I have gone there to do my business, and well I just don’t leave for some reason. It is not a good place to sleep for any length of time, when I do wake up, my ass is sore, to be blunt. Toilet seats need to be heated and cushioned.

The other night I found myself in the kitchen. I had filled the dog treat jar (an old cookie jar) with water. Did I turn on the tap or take the jug of water from the refrigerator? Haven’t a clue. We use a butter bell for our butter. I found I had filled the bottom half of the container which is supposed to house the water, with butter. Again, I don’t know why. What woke me this time? Apparently I had been trying to open the jar of peanut butter but didn’t succeed. Now I don’t even like peanut butter all that much, we have it mainly for the dogs. Cocoa won’t take his daily arthritis medicine without a scoop of peanut butter.

The most interesting sleep-walking experience of 2015 is when I mistook my beloved Blackberry Z10 for a heating pad (the ones you can toss in the microwave or freezer). I have been in a lot of pain since Christmas, having done far too much with not enough rest. My pain level was reaching unmanageable levels, so I was sleeping with two heating pads on my back. Sometime during the night, I assume after they had cooled off, I placed both of them on the headboard above the bed.

Next well still asleep, I picked up my smartphone (again something I normally do when walking down the stairs at night, it has a flashlight I turn on so I won’t fall, but then I placed it in the microwave. I can only assume I thought it to be my new heating pad as I entered the time of 2 minutes and 20 seconds – the time it takes to warm the pads up. After about say a minute and thirty seconds, I saw flames in the microwave. My smartphone was on fire! I opened the door, smoke bellowed out, but realizing oxygen just makes the fire worse, I slam the door closed, and turn off the microwave.

The smoke alarms are blaring as I grab a soaking wet cloth, open the door again, and toss the cloth on the phone. The flames are out so I toss my Blackberry in a pot of water, which had been left in the sink to soak from the previous night’s dinner. At the same time the young man and my husband have run downstairs. The young man was thinking he could be the hero, saving us all from a fire, only to find his mother, me, standing by the sink saying WTF over and over. The young man is disappointed and believe what I have just done.Hubby goes around opening windows, and turning on our ceiling fans, in effort to remove the toxic smoke that has filled the first floor of our house.

I cut my smartphone out of the otter box, which had melted just a little. I’m a mess, still saying “WTF, how in the hell could I have mistaken my phone for a heating pad”. My husband takes the phone from me, and removes the back off to see if my SIM card or media card have survived. Well the SIM card pretty much melted but my media card seems to be alright. Matt takes my media card and inserts it in his phone, and finds it works perfectly well. There is some good news, my photographs are all there, my contacts, etc., but I’m stunned by what has happened, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

My Blackberry Z10 after being microwaved

Note: Never ever open the microwave door when there is a fire inside, unplug it. Also never microwave your phone.

I’ve been sleeping around

2nd floor new additionAround eight years ago, we gave our children a choice “Would you like an inground pool” or “Would you prefer your own bedroom?” They chose the second option, their own bedrooms, thus the addition to our house began. When we first moved into our house, twenty-one years ago, it was a tiny two bedroom house which worked for two years, then I became pregnant with our third child. So Matt and I moved our bedroom to the basement. The girls shared a room upstairs, and our newborn son was given his own room.

For thirteen years, hubby and I slept in the basement. Our basement was crudely made into five different rooms but generally unfinished. The room we chose for our bedroom was large but did not have a door, and we went without a door for years, until we put up a curtain. Oh yeah! Hubby liked our bedroom because it was cold in the basement, and when he had to sleep during the day (after working a night-shift), he found it quite easy. I didn’t mind the basement either, I could still hear the kids when they got out of bed, because the floors squeaked a lot.

By adding a second floor to our house, we gained four new bedrooms, one large bathroom and a wall was knocked down on the first floor making the entire back of the house my kitchen. I lost my first floor linen/pantry/closet because that is where the stairs went. While the addition was being constructed, we continued to live in the house so we were able to monitor all the work. The disadvantage was the noise, the dust, and most of all, was us continually adding new things, like lets replace all the hardwood on the main floor. (A few years later, hubby knocked down the wall separating the last remaining bedroom and the living room, thus doubling the size of the living room).

Well eight years later and our bedroom is finally being painted but only because our waterbed sprung a leak! With the bed emptied, moving it was easy, so the eldest volunteered to paint the room for us, but of course this meant hubby and I would not have anywhere to sleep. He is pretty much sleeping on the futon in the basement, with a quilt hung across the door for some privacy, me, well, I’ve been on the couch in the living room, the spare couch in the basement, and in our daughter’s bed on the weekend. So I’ve been sleeping around and getting pretty tired of it. Hopefully the room will be finished soon, and we can refill the waterbed now that it is patched.

Note: The waterbed leaked only because an old patch had come off. This patch was located on the side of the bed where of course, I tuck  (please refer to last paragraph of 1600 kilometres and karma) in the sheet.

What happened when she didn’t sleep for five days?

She exploded and that is putting it mildly.

Middle child has had issues with sleeping for quite a long time now. Her sadness doesn’t help matters or the stress she puts upon herself or the constant stomach pains she has been suffering from for a year. An ultrasound showed she has kidney stones but apparently not enough to cause the pain she suffers so another test has been ordered, a Carbon 14 Breath test.

The medication she was prescribed by the doctor should have knocked her out but for some reason it didn’t even make her tired. Nights went by, but sleep eluded her. Each morning she would come downstairs with bags under her eyes, exhausted, cranky, and tearful. Anytime we said anything to her, she would snap, and snap at us. We tiptoed around her for days but still, we were an annoyance. She was exhausted and there was nothing we could do except hope she would sleep.

Finally earlier in the week, it all came to a head. She lost it on us. She screamed, and screamed, threw plastic cups at her brother (they just happened to be near her). Her brother screamed back, her father screamed back, I yelled for all to stop to no avail. I honestly cannot believe the neighbours did not call the police, the yelling was that mean and loud. I finally walked out, I couldn’t stand it any longer. Barefoot, purse in hand, kleenex box in another, crying I walked down our very busy street oblivious to the cars passing by me. I came to rest at the nearest corner, sat down on a ledge, crying and blowing my nose. The teenage boy came after me, and said the yelling had subsided, she had stopped.

I walked back home, it was quiet when I entered. Middle child had gone to her room and phoned my bff (an Aunt to her). She was calmer now. She told her adopted Aunt how she had lost it, she was terrified she was going nuts because she hadn’t slept in days. DH was in the basement, the teenage boy left for a jog (I think). After her phone call, middle child and I talked. I tried to explain to her, that lack of sleep, the constant pain, makes her full of rage. She took her medication and tried to sleep. I went to bed.

The next morning, she still had not slept but she was calm, crying and apologizing for her behaviour. Finally, two days after her explosion she slept for five hours. She was much happier. We saw our family doctor, who prescribed her medication for her stomach (a major cause of her not sleeping) and told her to increase the other meds.

She is sleeping a tad better now, though she is not 100%, this may take a while but at least she knows her stomach pain is not in her head.

Middle child gave me permission to write this.