I was listening to NPR today and I finally figured out why I’m such a crabby zombie: I don’t sleep. They did a whole bit on sleep and why we don’t get enough.

Over the years I’ve had different reasons for staying up too late. They’ve ranged from partying, to video gaming, to pointless Internet gazing. The later has been the case for quite a while.

My alarm goes off at 5:00 AM. Of course the first question that pops in your head is going to be “You get up at 5:00 AM to be a rock star?!?” Well, yes and no—except for the yes part.

For me to get the required eight hours of sleep that means I would have to be in bed by 8:45. There are a couple of problems with that. First of all, musicians who fancy themselves hipper than the average schmuck do not go to bed at 8:45. The manual clearly states that 10:30 PM is the absolute earliest we can go to bed and that’s only if we plan to read for a while.

Another problem is that even Riley isn’t asleep by then. We usually put him to bed around 8:30 but then he lays there and sings for at least 45 more minutes.

Then what about this? Angel’s alarm is set for 7:00. That means she doesn’t even need to go to bed until 11:00, which is still a little early for her considering that she is also of the zombie lot. So that means if we both intend to get eight hours of sleep and not change our alarms we will spend exactly zero hours in bed together while awake. Maybe you can see why that would be a problem.

I’m not trying to be cute here. I’m completely serious. How do we solve this problem? Something has to be done. We’ve talked about it a lot but we can’t seem to come to any real agreement. I must start getting more sleep. I’ve been living on five hours of sleep for at least six or seven years and it’s going to send me to an early grave.

Speaking of early graves, we have this woman in our neighborhood who is constantly walking her dog up and down our street. I don’t mean she walks the dog every day. I mean she walks it incessantly. I’ve seen her walking when I leave the house in the morning. I’ve seen her walking when we’re about to go to bed. It’s non-stop. We’re convinced it’s some sort of obsessive disorder. She looks like she’s about 60 or so, about 5′ 11″, and maybe 100 LBS and dropping. She been doing this for years and she’s now on her third dog. I don’t know if the dogs are dying or what. I know I couldn’t hang.

So now Riley yells “Hi!” out the window to her every time she passes the house. This is about once every hour. Angel told him just a few minutes ago to stop yelling and he said “…but I love her!”

Nice! Harold and Maude and Three Dead Dogs.