The Fascinating Sleeping Patterns of a Madisonian Faggot…

Let’s just say that, in the last month, I’ve not been sleeping as much or as well as I need to in order to carry on life function. By way of explanation, I should relate that when it starts to get cold out, I begin to require quite a bit more sleep than the average bear. By bear I mean not the hairy/fat/queer variety, as I more closely resemble an otter in that parlance, but a grizzly. I simply bury myself in goose down, sometimes using my cat as a living hot water bottle, and effectively die for a period of time not to exceed 10 hours at a stretch. This sleep is blessedly dream-free, and generally restorative, even if one tends to wake up a tad cranky and less than willing to vacate the feline-fired cocoon of timed oblivion.
With Orpheus around, this all just becomes more difficult. He still has a job where he doesn’t have to get up early every day, and so stays up rather too late. No matter how considerate he may be, I’m always a little put out by his late-night movie watching antics. Plus, as we’re not actually falling asleep at the same time, we’re not on precisely the same circadian rhythm, either. This means that we’re both getting hot and cold at turns, and thus rather negatively interfering with each others’ sleeping patterns. Furthermore, when I’m over at his place, the situation has become quite sticky, indeed. They turned on the heat in his building, over which individual residents have no control. If it’s too hot, moreover, one cannot open the window for relief without risking a fine from management. So, beyond any nocturnal activities which tend to produce copious sweat, O’s room is like a sauna every night. We’re both cold sleepers. This is BAD!
Really, I can’t think of a way to fix things, but have not yet consulted the internets, so we’ll just have to wait and see what else can be dug up for me to worry about next week. Either way, I find the prospect of not spending so much time sharing a bed with O. to be disturbing at least. As odious as his breath becomes in the morning, it’s the sweetest morning breath to my nostrils, to date… This counts for a lot. By the by, wish us luck! I won’t tell you for what without getting his permission to write about it first, but it’s pretty exciting/fun, anyway. Take my word for it, I dare you.