internet vs. bedtime

Steve and I have different bedtimes. I can’t believe I just said that and didn’t backspace. It sounds so juvenile. But I really don’t know any better way to say it. I go to bed much earlier than he does. I like to read in bed and let my eyelids tell me when it’s time to fall asleep. My book ends up on the pillow or the floor; sometimes I have enough foresight to put a marker in it and turn off the lamp. And sometimes, I say I’m going to bed and get distracted by the glow of the screen saver. I could be addicted to the internet.

Seriously. Steve and I have often discussed how I’m the only person we know that’s not addicted to something (unless you count ice cream or pasta, I guess). But if we were to analyze me further, we’d see I rarely go more than a couple hours without logging on to see what I missed while I was away.

I check emails and Facebook (even though I think I’m too old for it now). I check my LinkedIn account occasionally, look up words on dictionary.com. I peruse eBay, Banana Republic, Amazon for things to buy. I read my own blogs because I’m egotistical. I watch my sitemeter like a hawk. I read other people’s blogs and I google random topics that I heard recently that I’m not knowledgeable about. I look at what jobs are out there even though I’m not looking. In a nutshell, I dawdle because I love the internet.

Last night was one such night when a quick email check turned into a couple hours of nonsense surfing. But I was waiting for Steve to come upstairs because I enjoy the whole falling asleep in each other’s arms concept…although about a minute in I pull out of his embrace and turn towards the window because that’s the only way I can actually fall asleep. So maybe I don’t enjoy that as much as I enjoy its prelude. Either way. I heard the usual hum of the TV so I knew he was awake watching some stupid comedy that he so enjoys.

I called down to him my nightly mantra, “come to bed,” and about an hour later, when I couldn’t think of a single website I hadn’t visited, I walked into our bedroom. There was Steve, on our bed, waiting for me. “How long have you been up here?” I asked. “At least an hour, I’m halfway done with Shallow Hal,” he answered. “What did you say to me earlier? Did you say ‘Come to bed’?”