I wake up a little after 3 am every night.  My dog used to stand in the hall and shake his dog tags at that same time when he was still with us.  Years of letting him out, waiting for him to return, and listening to him fill up again at his water bowl has created an unalterable  internal clock.  A friend says he sometimes wakes in the night expecting his dog to be sleeping at the end of the bed even though his dog passed away years ago.  At least he can fall back asleep in a pleasant. warm memory.  Typically,  I just lay there trying to keep my eyes shut, quietly counting breathes much like I used to do before our dog would catch on that a human being was coherent enough to turn a door knob.  But now I just lay there and wish he was there to give purpose to my 3 am awakening.

Last night I awoke from one of those never-ending dreams of mine where I am organizing numbers or forgetting to put something very important in a report but not remembering  what report or why it is so important.  The task just keeps repeating over and over.   I always feel exhausted the entire following day.  I started to panic I wouldn’t fall back asleep and I needed to rise earlier to take my car back into the dealership.  Then,  I was really awake.   Tossing and turning until 5 am, I managed very little shut-eye and when I did, there I was, putting something in another column of a spreadsheet, regretting that I forgot to put whatever it was I suppose to put in an agreement.

By the time I made it to the service center, only three cars were ahead of me.  The shuffle of cars was slowed as the painting of the shop floor over the weekend meant early morning connections of computers, printers, and finding the correct clip board.  Rubbing the sleep out of the corner of my eyes I waited patiently until they heard my sob story of having to bring my car back in a week after they supposedly fixed brakes and everything under my hood.  The masochist, or was it the mechanic, filled out my paperwork and sent me on my way in a loaner.  I’m late for work.  It’s humid.  It’s raining. Construction is everywhere.  I have a report due and I just know I will forget something.

The day continued with the air vent directly above me on full blast and cold.   If a sink hole opened below me, I would have understood but instead the bad news of my car which needed what amounted to open heart surgery quickly swallowed my wallet.  I thought about the movement of money to pay for the bill and I wasn’t really even sure what I was paying for.  I sat quietly hoping no one would know I was awake at my desk but a knock on the door was followed by the phone ringing which was followed by the onslaught of emails.  I had to join the day which meant I had to open my eyes a little wider and look lively.

By night fall, I was ready to sink back into the safety of  comfort food and music to lessen the day’s annoyances.  I caught a glance of the remaining dog biscuits still sitting on top of the refrigerator.   I haven’t been able to throw them out for whatever reason.  While my husband watched hockey after dinner, I opened the back door and sat outside studying the backyard.  I imagined my dog rolling around on the grass kicking his feet in the air.  He would know how I felt, I was certain.  And if he didn’t he would wait until morning to make me get up and start another day whether I wanted to or not.