If a creeper decides to choose my bedroom window to peek into at night, he or she will find a blue hue dancing around my room, and Michael Scott’s face may be visible on the tube. If I am awake, which is several times a night, I turn on the sitcoms and instantly feel safe and sleepy.
I’m not proud to say I’ve seen every episode of Frasier, Everybody Loves Raymond, Golden Girls, Modern Family, and The Office, but I’m not unproud either. I know them all, not because I deliberately watched them, but because they’re my nighttime companions. My friends. My comfort.
Insomnia isn’t the issue, actually, there isn’t one. I get my eight hours, but they’re just not solid, fluid, continuous hours of sleep. It’s falling asleep that I need help with, and that’s where my Friends come in. Oh yea, I’ve seen all of that one, too.
Joey Tribiani not eating meat so Phoebe could quell her pregnancy cravings is a good one to lull me to sleep, and so is Phil Dunfy when he sits at a bar as his alter ego, Clive Bixby. The shows are wholesome and so dang funny, it sets a positive mood, and they successfully block my to-do lists and general parental worries from making the trek to the front of my brain.
When I watch Dwight Schrute fight for megadesk, or Frasier and Niles sip their Sherry from tiny glasses, I easily slip into dreamland with no worries. Also, there’s no negativity in the shows that could potentially linger in my mind creating scary dreams or plain old worry.
I could not be the person who watches Stranger Things or Poltergeist before sleeping. As a matter of fact, I only can watch any type of serious show or documentary early in the day, or I am not sleeping well. I’ve always been like that and have no hope, or even desire, to change it. It’s not a terrible thing falling asleep to the comforting voice of Rose Nylund. It’s more soothing than any fake rain forest sounds a machine or app could offer my ears and heart.
I’m sure people would say it’s not a good way to sleep. I’ve seen the studies and read articles about people needing eight hours of sleep each night with no distractions. I get it, but don’t really care. It works for me, and there’s nobody to complain except my German shepherd, Gisele, or my cats, Salad and T’Challa, and they haven’t said a word.
So, I will continue to fall asleep to the imaginary scents of Marie Barone’s lasagna and Jean Nate, or even drift away to the people marching down the aisle at Jim and Pam’s wedding to Chris Brown’s “Forever” and I won’t stop until there is substantial luggage that rests under my eyes. Sweet dreams.
*This post is dedicated to the writers of all of the shows I listed, Charter Spectrum, and my boyfriend, Roku.