Set aside Thursday evening to work on editing a supervisor candidate video and judge photos for a contest for the Floyd Center for the Arts.
So much for plans. Woke up this morning just after 7 a.m. after falling asleep in my chair at my computer work station more than 12 hours earlier.
Damn, I thought, a planned production period lost.
“Good,” my wife replied. “You needed the sleep.”
Sleep, I used to joke, was something I gave up for Lent — 50 years ago.
Now it comes back to bite me in the ass.
I had hoped to post the video interview Friday morning. Now I hope to have it up this weekend. It deals with the supervisor race for the Indian Valley seat and the selection between Justin Coleman and Susan Peters will be made by residents of Indian Valley on Saturday, April 29.
At 69, I find myself falling asleep as my desk about once a week, particularly after a long day on one project or the other.
Never used to happen. I could work around the clock whenever needed. Now I have come close to sleeping around the clock from time to time. Old age could be one reason. So could two incidents in my life that damn near killed me and brought extended hospital says: One in my early 20s and the second four-and-a-half years ago.
I’ve spent more than a half century rising, without need of an alarm clock, at 0500 each morning. No matter what time zone I might be in — and I have been in all the ones around the clock over the years — my eyes would pop open at 5 a.m. wherever I might be in the world.
Now I sometimes oversleep. Didn’t used to happen. Now it does.
As age 70 approaches, I’ve lost a step or two. I still work 50-60 hours a week in a profession I love. I still ride motorcycles. However, I sometimes fall asleep editing photos or video, I forget things unless I have written them down and I sometimes struggle for words, even in the middle of a sentence.
Time, somebody once said, has a nasty habit of catching up with each of us.
Perhaps it it has wrestled me to the ground in a last ditch effort to shout: “Slow down!”
Perhaps I should accept the fact that the TBI (traumatic brain injury) that I suffered in 2012 is, and will continue to, take its toll.
Perhaps I should listen to the doctor and start going to bed earlier and rising, say, a couple of hours later each day.
Or perhaps pigs will fly.