Ear Moth

Did not sleep well last night. I know, I know . . . like you freakin care.

Sometimes I get what my doctor calls an “ear flutter,” which is this weird little rhythmic thumping sense of movement deep within my ear.

My doctor says it’s no big deal, tied to my allergies, and to think of the flutters it as “ear hiccups.”

My doctor uses the phrase “no big deal” entirely too much, I think.

Ear flutters do not feel like hiccups.

Flutters feel like an enormous fuzzy moth is rearranging furniture and making grilled cheese sandwiches . . . in your ear.

My personal ear moth is usually drunk, I think, because he bumps into everything as he makes himself a late-night snack.

Listening to a giant tipsy moth make cheese sandwiches in your ear is not conducive to sleeping.

So I stay awake and worry.

Worry comes naturally to me.

And mostly, on nights like this, I worry that the giant moth will kick a hole right through my ear and into my brain.

A moth-drilled hole into my brain would be bad, I think, although I am sure my doctor would probably look into that hole, wave to the moron moth, and say that it is “no big deal.”

Imagine me in bed, sitting up, but with upper body thrown as far forward as I can stretch.

Head face-down into the blankets between my knees.

In this position, the ear moth is silenced.

This position is not conducive to sleeping.

Stupid ear moth.

I go to bed at nine - I know I'm old!

After about an hour I assume the "I can't sleep, HELP ME!" position

All the while, my personal ear moth is dragging the settee closer to the window and slamming bedroom bureau drawers. Tripping over the coffee table on his way to the fridge. And now he’s issuing lunch orders.

I’m sure my doctor would agree that it is “no big deal” that I am now able to converse with the moth in my head.

A cheese sandwich does sound tasty.