A notable component of the evolution I encounter on a daily basis, commonly referred to as “aging”, is the variability of my sleeping habits.
Whereas it was normal for me to sleep from 10 pm until 6 am, I now sleep in assorted disconnected intervals, sometimes a hour of sleep and then 2 hours of sitting up — watching TV, reading, writing, or simply meditating. Then followed occasionally by a solid four hours of delightful repose — and OH, what dreams may come!
I keep a stenographer’s note pad beside me — that I may record the wild imaginings of my fruitful mind. Else mental meanderings of great moment are lost forever! When I feel able to do so, I open the Word processor on my computer, and struggle to develop the germinating ideas that percolate in the wee hours.
I am impelled to impose my weird ideas on those innocents who are good enough to read what I publish. And I occasionally feel a slight twinge of guilt, at the arrogance of my thoughts — you who read me are unwilling victims of my desire to be heard ...
You are
“Helpless to resist the notes I write...
For I compose the musings of the night!”
My humble apologies to Andrew Lloyd Webber
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