I appear to have lost the ability to go to sleep. It's like losing a key; I have no idea where it is. I rack my brain but can't find it.
I go to bed, but sleep does not happen. I feel like Macbeth, or is it Lady Macbeth, but without the guilty conscience. On some occasions, I do finally nod off, waking in the morning to find I have migrated to some hitherto unvisited part of the bed with sheets and blankets tangled around me. But lately, even this has eluded me.
So I lie there, trying to think of something, anything, to divert my mind and coax it to release me.
Sometimes I get up and have breakfast and then sneak back to bed. This sometimes fools my sub conscious for a time, not always. Or I move to another bed. I open the window. I close the window. I turn on the ceiling fan; it get too cold; I turn it off. I turn on the electric blanket. Then I turn it off again. I go downstairs, lie on the couch, and turn on the television. My feet get cold. Alternatively, I feel hot all over. Neither condition lasts.
I am wide awake, and alert enough to do my income tax. But I don't want to do my income tax. I want to sleep. I want to knit up the ragged sleave of care.