Asleep to the deep gentle rumble of distant thunder.

Sometimes I forget that mining is still an active industry in this area. Granted, it is not as active as it once was, but it is still viable. In fact, (between the mines, the quarry, and the army ordinance depot) the deep explosions are so frequent in this area in the spring and summer months that it is easy to ignore them.

To tell the truth it has been a good many years now since I have paid them any notice at all. Back then, (as now) I found myself working the graveyard shift, and then (as now) I found myself in the position of having to try to sleep in the middle of the day (and being unsuccessful).

It wasn't the light that kept me awake as I recall (I had put tin foil on the windows), it wasn't the traffic outside, and it wasn't the loud neighbors (though they did have their moments). It was the fact that every time I started to drift off, the ground would shake, the walls would creak, and an audible "THUMP.... Tha thump thump thump thump thump" would jar me from my tentative slumber.

I tried everything I could think of to get a decent days sleep, to no avail. I tried drinking, sleeping pills, exercise, warm milk, sex, aspirin, light meals, heavy meals, and total exhaustion. Nothing worked.

My work suffered.
My relationships suffered.
People began to notice a change in me.
I began to notice a change in myself.
I started having blackouts, drifting off without being aware of it.
My employer had me submitted for several "random" drug tests.
I was loosing it.

I had almost given up hope when my lady friend J. , who I had been seeing in an on again/off again friendly sort of relationship, decided to give me some advice.

"Look," she says, "This is really turning you into a worthless prick ok. Now you can sleep through thunderstorms right?"

"No," I say, "They wake me up first, but when I breathe the clean air, and hear the distant rumbling, I fall right back to sleep."

"Well," she says, "Maybe you should keep one of those free dehydrated sponge thingies on a plate in front of the fan."

"Ok I'll bite," I say, "Why should I do that?"

"Well," she says, "What you do is, next time the mine wakes you up, you dump some water from the waterbottle onto the sponge and turn on the fan. You will smell the water, and feel the cool air, and fall right back to sleep."

"Yeah right," I say, "Your just fucking with me 'cause I'm sleep deprived."

"Look," she says, "Just try it, maybe your more gullible than you thought."

At which point she boxed my ears and kissed me on the forehead.

"Let me know if it works."

So the next morning I dig an old dessicated sponge out of the cupboard, stick it on a plate in front of the fan, and discover that I am indeed more gullible than I though.

I slept like a baby for the entire year and a half that I worked that job.

Jen and I went our separate ways a few years ago, on friendly terms. A short time later she was traveling up a windy stretch of highway in the northern part of the state when a drunk in a pickup crossed the median and hit her head on. They were both traveling in excess of 65 miles per hour (making the estimated impact speed over 130 mph). Jen was pronounced dead at the scene, and the drunk croaked it at the hospital.

This afternoon as I write this,
there is a damp sponge sitting on a plate in front of the fan,
my alarm clocks are set,
there is a cold drink in my hand,
and the deep gentle rumble of distant thunder.