Tuesday, March 8, 2005


I am writing this under a palm tree, in front of our room, on the beach. In the middle of the night.

I can't sleep.

Which is ironic, because the last 48 hours have for me been all about getting me to this point in time. Where I finally could get to sleep. First, I skipped sleep between Saturday and Sunday to finish some work, which I would otherwise have had to do today. Then, I drove us to the airport, instead of catching a couple of hours of sleep there, because my wife was not feeling too good and I didn't want to ask her to drive. Then, my daughter—the veteran trans-Atlantic passenger—had her first-ever lousy experience flying. Turned out she couldn't get her ears to pop. So I and my wife took turns walking her up and down the cabin aisle, to distract her, and getting her to drink liquids, in the hope that the swallowing would pop the pressure. So no sleep there, for neither of us. Poor kid, she took it really well though, considering how much it must have hurt. And then last night, after she was asleep, I finally got some time alone with my wife. Just to talk. She usually goes to sleep not long after my daughter, in order to get a good night's sleep before she is off to work, at 5 AM. And then I had to show up early at the car rental this morning, because we had a really long drive today. Finally, after checking us into our home this week, enjoying a nice dinner at the impressive hotel restaurant, and putting my daughter to sleep, my wife and I stretched out on lounge chairs in front of our room for a while, before she fell to sleep and went inside.

So here I am. Awake, alert, and alone again.

Oh gods of slumber. Strike thee myself with thy mighty jolts of unconciousness, so I may crawl into bed with my wife, and not lay there twisting and turning all night.