Practically everything the experts tell us to do I do: bedtime routines, a regular bedtime, no back lit screens, blackout curtains, and no nightcaps-beverages not hats. But if a special hat would help me sleep I'll would wear it.
That brings me to probably the only thing I refuse to do: sleep naked.
Oh, I have heard how liberating and comfy it is to sleep in the nude. Your body doesn't have to work as hard to regulate its temperature and you aren't tugging at straps and waistbands. However, just like the everyday clothing you choose to wear, if you are constantly adjusting your pajamas you aren't wearing the proper (size, cut, or style) attire. I believe in being properly attired AT ALL TIMES.
Sleeping naked makes me anxious and when I'm anxious I can't sleep. I am afraid that in an emergency I will have to flee the house and end up in my front yard stark raving naked.
If you think something like that is unlikely let me tell you a story.
Remember when I wrote a how-to guide for de-icing a car with a butter knife? Something else happened that trip that I didn't blog about then. But at the time my grandfather was in hospice and we were not suppose to talk about anything stressful. Especially not to him or in front of him.
If we talked about stressful things it might cause him to think we still needed taking care of and he may hesitate to pass away. And what could stress a person out more than a hotel fire?
My Mom at I stayed at the hotel for about a week. Every night before we went to bed we would both sit down and re-pack our bags. The anxiety-fueled theory being we were less likely to lose our things and in an emergency we could grab our stuff (the biggest no-no) and book it to the exit. This is an insane way to behave until you find yourself in the exact situation you have been planning for.
We had settled into bed for the night when the disembodied voice came over the speakers telling us there is an emergency and we need to evacuate to the parking lot. I shot out of bed, pulled on my boots and jacket, grabbed my bag, while begging my groggy mother to hurry the hell up and do the same.
We had to put our boots on because the parking lot was iced over. The hotel had even put up signs discouraging us from leaving due to the conditions.
The hotel was at capacity because of the storm. People had pulled off the highways unable to travel safely including a bus carrying a girl's sports team. People without electricity who needed it because of medical equipment had moved in: an old woman with an oxygen tank in a cumbersome hospital bed was there and there was a man with scars on his shaved head because he had recently undergone some sort of brain surgery.
As we all scrambled down the hall to the stairs I would occasionally have to slowdown to look back for my Mom. During one of these pauses a door flew open and an elderly woman ran out. She turned back to the room for a moment and in a panicked, shrill Southern accent yelled: "You are going to burn for your vanity!" I caught a glimpse of a gentleman, I assume was her husband, struggling to pull his pants on as the door quietly closed.
The fire turned out to be minor and we were allowed to huddle in the lobby while the fire department cleaned up. My mom and I slept with our shoes and bags by our side that night. Hell, I think my Mom might have straight slept in her shoes and coat. Which turned out to be smart because the fire alarm would go off one more time that night. A false alarm that did not bring everyone out of their rooms.
And that, my friends, is why I don't sleep naked.
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