Early to Bed, Early to Rise

In 1735, Benjamin Franklin wrote in Poor Richard’s Almanack:

“Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”

One thing I know for sure—he wasn’t correct about the “wealthy” part. And I’m not entirely convinced about the “healthy” and “wise” either.

Last night, I had one of the worst migraines I’ve had in a while. It had been building all day and finally came to a crescendo around 7:30 p.m. By 8:00, after taking my migraine medicine, I was asleep. That part, at least, would have made Mr. Franklin proud.

I woke up around 11:30 p.m.—thankfully without the migraine—but it took me over an hour to fall back to sleep. In fact, I was awake enough to finish reading a novella I’d started the day before. There’s something oddly satisfying about finishing a book in the quiet middle of the night, when the world feels paused and suspended.

Once I finished the novella, I did what many men do when they can’t sleep and nearly dozed off watching a particularly unexciting video that should have been stimulating but instead worked better than melatonin. I was awake just long enough to turn everything off and slip into dreamland.

You’d think falling asleep during that type of video might lead to some interesting dreams—perhaps something that wood be pleasant—but no such luck. The dreams were as boring as the video. In one, I was in the middle of a very colorful parade reminiscent of a Pride parade. Only it wasn’t a celebration—it was a protest. I never discovered what we were protesting, even though dream-me kept trying to find out. The other dream was so unremarkable that I can’t even remember what it was about.

I suspect the second dream was interrupted by Isabella wanting to be fed at 3:45 a.m. I successfully fended her off for about thirty minutes before surrendering. At that hour, resistance is futile.

Now I’m writing this post with a slight headache lingering, contemplating whether I should just go back to bed.

I’m technically off work today because of a scheduling error I made and decided not to correct. Officially, I’m “at a doctor’s appointment at Dartmouth.” It had originally been a Botox appointment until they shortened the interval between shots from twelve weeks to ten. Since I do actually have a headache, the sick leave for the first part of the day still applies. I was planning to take vacation time this afternoon anyway.

So here I am—early to bed, early to rise—and not feeling especially healthy, not remotely wealthy, and certainly not particularly wise.

Perhaps Mr. Franklin should have added a footnote:

“Results may vary. Especially for those with migraines, midnight reading habits, and insistent cats.”