Things my girlfriend and I have argued about (online version)

55

Insomnia. The thing with — hold on, before I start, look at this: [4]. Guess which one of us hung that up at some point on Friday, and which one of us walked into the bedroom sometime later and said, 'Wow, that's really good. I've often thought how not at all irritating it would be to have a bunch of feathers dangling just in front of my face all night, and I've also frequently been overcome with a sudden sadness that I had no means of a casual arm wave as I slept somehow entangling itself in ribbons and a suspended hoop so as to bring a halogen lamp crashing down onto my sleeping face. Yet, I've never thought of bringing the two together — now, that's genius.'

Apparently, it needs to be hung over our bed — rather than, say, outside, on a tree, in front of somebody else's house — as it's a dreamcatcher. And there I was thinking that, once I logged off the Net, I was safe. That, in my own bed, I was beyond the sinister reach of Wacky Californians — what is it with you people? What did I ever do to you? OK, apart from that. (By the way, if you're a Wacky California who was all set to write me an email suggesting some kind of family therapy pioneered by another Wacky Californian, but who finds yourself now even more compelled to write one beginning, «In fact, the dreamcatcher is an old Native American tradition. Nokomis, the grandmother, was watching a spider…» then can I ask that you just don't, OK? In fact, as a general rule, I tend not to take advice — 'consider the source', right? — about life from people who choose to live on a massive earthquake faultline.) As an aside, Wacky Californians, there was a tiny piece in last week's Metro newspaper, which I found interesting. I emailed the editor to ask if I could put a scan of it up here but, unfortunately, he said no — as he's perfectly entitled to do, of course — but the gist was that a couple had their application to adopt refused because they don't argue enough. Maybe Margret and I should give classes or something.

So, as I was saying, 'insomnia'. The thing with insomnia is you never know when to give in. Do you stay there, trying to get to sleep, or do you give in and say, 'Well — not going to get to sleep anyway: might as well get up and do something.' It's a tricky one and no mistake. When I get insomnia, I generally try all the standard things: I try to relax, I try to clear my mind, I try to think of something pleasant (often this turns out to involve Courteney Cox and, in the 'encouraging a condition where sleep is likely' stakes, backfires massively). If none of these works, I'll quietly get up, go downstairs and read Pinter until insomnia's spirit breaks. What I don't do is turn to Margret and, at intervals precisely judged to be 'just long enough to have allowed the other person to have got to sleep again', keep saying, 'I can't sleep' and, 'I can't sleep' and, 'Really, I just can't sleep' and, 'I'm still awake, I just can't sleep' and, 'Pheeeeeeeeeeeeee — I can't sleep' and, 'I don't know what it is; I'm tired, but I can't sleep' and, 'I can't sleep' and, 'I can't get to sleep' and, 'I'll be so tired in the morning — look at the time. But I can't sleep'. Because that's the kind of behaviour that can lead… to… someone… snapping.