One thing about my peculiar sleeping pattern is that usually, once I fall asleep, I stay asleep through the night. As bad as the insomnia can get, it isn’t the kind where you wake up every hour (or every half hour, or every ten minutes). Except last night.

I hadn’t been asleep long (although I didn’t look at the clock, so I can’t be sure) when I woke up the first time, but this was different. I woke up shivering. My teeth were chattering. And it wasn’t that cold, so I had to wonder if something was wrong. Either I’d left a window open or I’d contracted malaria. Both scenarios were unlikely.

Tempted as I was, I didn’t get up to see if the front door was swinging open. I stayed in bed and really, really tried to get back to sleep. But I was awake more than I was asleep for the rest of the night, and squirmy and uncomfortable, and by the time I rolled out of bed this morning my back was aching.

Well, you can just about imagine how miserable I was all day, and how miserable I made everyone who came into contact with me. It was one of those days when the phone tied me up all morning, but on about the fifth or sixth call, I let the Boss know how frustrated I was. I didn’t come out and say it, but he could tell. Something about the way I growled the name of the company when I answered the phone, then moaned when I heard his voice. That got the message across.

Believe it or not, it got better later in the day. Only a little better, but still. Better, in the sense that I could get some work done, and my back stopped aching, and I got my joie de vivre back. Well, not that last part, but the rest of it, yes.