Mr. Sandman, Bring Me a Dream...

Last night I tried again and failed again.
I thought long and hard about going to sleep before midnight.
Everyone else in my family can, quite easily too it seems but I still struggle.
I enjoy my struggle though I can't lie.
Those wee hours of the night that I lay awake are my peaceful moments. 
My "me" time.
I think, these are the hours that I get clarity. 
I can watch whatever I want without protest, I can play my stupid games without anyone protesting or looking at me all judgy with their judgy ass eyes.
I can really do whatever I want. 
As long as it's quiet and it doesn't wake anyone else up.

But then I think, I do all that shit all day anyway.
I watch whatever I want.
I play my stupid ass games whenever I want.
I think whatever I want.

I have fooled myself into thinking quite the opposite of what those hours mean to me exactly.

So what kept me up last night? Besides my husbands rape-y hands? 

Breaking Bad.

I started it a year or so ago on Netflix and then stopped because Skylar, Walt's wife, just rubbed me the wrong way. There's a lot of cheese thrown into the dialogue that doesn't seem organic and as trivial as that may sound, it is enough to get me off a bandwagon really quick. But yesterday, as I was browsing thru "My List" I seen it still there and realized that I only had a season left to finish. 

I hate being a quitter.

I am on Season 4 Episode 8 - Cornered. I think it's titled. It was really good so I had to pause it at 2 AM and put on Dolphins instead. Otherwise that binge could have lasted well into the wee morning. Further than it already had.

So when I switched to Dolphins - I found myself still very much engaged with the programming. How they swim, how they lunge out of the water and dive or twist back in. Or maybe I was just waiting to see a dolphin penis. 

Never happened. Crashed before I could confirm.