Deep sleep is so rare. I was enjoying rest last night until, first thing in the morning, a woodpecker woke me by banging on my roof. Groggy and uncoordinated, I got up and raided my recycle bin for ammunition, waddled out onto the balcony and chucked a tin can in the general direction of the banging noise. The can was satisfyingly loud and the ricochet landed it somewhere in the front yard. The woodpecker was huge, it swooped into the nearest clump of trees - a blur of grey with a glimpse of wings, almost too quick to focus on.
I had a glass of water and headed back to bed, but I couldn't sleep again till I was finished being resentful of being woken by holes being drilled into my house.
The can will remain hidden in my unkempt scraggly yard until next spring thaw reveals it, to be picked up if I happen to have a good day that I am willing to spend on such a chore.
Spending a good day is a greater challenge than achieving restful sleep. Anticipating a good day, is near impossible. I wonder if today would have been a good day -after deep restful sleep- had the woodpecker not disturbed me.
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