Clonazepam is my prescribed go-to for sleep. When it hits, it hits hard. I can't operate heavy machinery, like the ice-maker or toilet flush handle. There isn't any euphoria. It just this woah-no-balance-how-long-has-this-wall-been-here? feeling. I don't have much coordination.
A few scant hours had passed since I took last night's clonazepam.I was in a deep sleep when Jeff began to nudge me. "You alarm is going off (it wasn't) and the dogs want Breakfast Biscuit."
I moved to the edge of the bed (the world sloshed along with me). There wasn't any indication of an alarm.or other noise on my phone.
It took me three tries to stand up from bed. I toppled on the landing (How did I get down here?) and staggered into the bathroom and found the toilet. I think I feel asleep for a few minutes. All I remember is hitting the floor.
Back to the bedroom I go!
"Hey, let the dogs out. I'm too wobbly," I said.
"I'm wobbly, too," he countered.
There was no fucking way in hell that he was more wobbly than I am. Pffft!
I sloshed into bed (because everything is sloshy at that moment).
Did I mention that it was 3:45 am when all this took place?
It was 3:45 am.