Elizabeth Cobbe

Not really. Let me explain.

I am a terrible sleeper. I have been for some years now. It began with a terribly stressful time at work that’s now a distant memory (distant enough that I considered but did not write a name-redacted insult in this parenthetical), and then never stopped.

It’s all right! I’ve locked in on a number of hacks, and I won’t go into them all because I am not a sleep blogger (Do those exist? Should I be one? Would it help?), and because most of the hacks are completely obvious things like, “Don’t drink caffeine before bed.” (Thanks so much, Rip Van Winkle. Your advertisers want their fraction of a penny back, you piece-of-crap excuse for an AI sleep blogger.)

But one thing I do almost every night is listen to audio books on very low volume, on a sleep timer. That, combined with several other caffeine-free hacks, has just about gotten me to a place where my brain achieves deep sleep, and I can achieve semi-coherence by 8:00 a.m.

The books I choose are very specific in nature. They are pleasant and enjoyable. Sometimes a lengthy work of historical nonfiction with a very unruffled British narrator about the history of the paperclip will do, but typically these books are not boring. They are simply familiar and nice. The narrator must have a good voice, and often these audiobooks are novels that I have read or listened to before.

My very favorites are The Murderbot Diaries, narrated by Kevin R. Free. Kevin, if you are reading this, you can have my babies. Your voice is a gift and a treasure. Please, never stop speaking into a microphone.

Second favorite has been the Rivers of London series by Ben Aaronovich, narrated by the dialect wizard and Olivier-winning actor Kobna Holdbrook-Smith. Those books are fantastic, except that the ending of each book gets just a bit too exciting to sleep.

I take regular breaks from these series to keep them effective. Lately I’ve been listening to essay collections/memoir-esque books by comedians that I’ve already read on paper, and that’s how I came to listen to John Hodgman’s two books, Vacationland and Medallion Status. I’d read Vacationland before on paper and enjoyed it. Hodgman’s narration is even more fun. I chased after the audio of Medallion Status right after. These books are hilarious and touching, and while it’s entirely possible that John Hodgman might be a lying scab, I doubt it. He seems very kind and honest.

I should mention that I also listen to audio books while wide awake, mostly while returning from driving my kid places. But at 4:00 a.m., I listen to them, and they are a gift. Medallion Status is currently making me laugh to the point of tears. By day, the other drivers must be very concerned to see me weeping with laughter at 65 mph. At night, I try and fail to stifle it to keep from waking my husband. What comes out is a noisy reverse-snort. (Sorry not sorry, hon.)

I’ve enjoyed both books so much that yesterday, I went to John Hodgman’s site and signed up for his newsletter. And in that sign-up form, were four text fields: first name, last name, email… and website.

Why does John Hodgman want my website? I assume he doesn’t really. Or maybe he does, I don’t know. If he does, he’ll probably miss this post anyway, because I signed up about 24 hours before publishing this. Regardless, it reminded me that I have a website, and that something ought to be done about it.

Oh, Peaches. This space is a confusing space. Posting here feels like decorating the dance hall hours before a party to which no one has yet RSVP’d. I am preparing for a future in which I experience success, in the event that I do.

I don’t particularly care to fill this space with writing advice. That’s covered by so many other writers already. Also, most writing advice makes me antsy. I know most of these things, even if I often execute imperfectly upon them. I am not going to dole out sleep advice, either, at least not more than I already have. Instead, I tell small stories. I call you “Peaches,” because I want my readers to know that I will treat them with both levity and kindness. I wait until I have an experience that is (a) funny/odd, (b) memorable, and (c) not something that would violate the privacy of my family and friends, and then I tell you about it, Peaches. Perhaps you might laugh. Perhaps, if I am very lucky, you will someday reverse-snort and awaken those who love you, and like me, you will not apologize for experiencing joy amid the darkness.

A celebrity reader might be curious and read these pages. That would be fine. More importantly, I’d like to welcome you, an ordinary reader, to the dance hall. Perhaps I will serve you some metaphorical punch and share a story or two during the long, dark night.

Be well this summer, Peaches. Until next time.