Crumby Can Not Sleep!!!!

Yer keeping me up Crumby. Go on Crumby. Go do something.

All righty then. I shall then get on up and go see if I can find something interesting to do.

Go on. I’m trying to sleep.

So here I am. Just after trying to find something interesting to do I decided to write something up for the venue and this is what I came up with.

There are many reasons that I sometimes can not go to sleep. But perhaps the most troubling aspect of fixing to go to sleep is trying to figure out what to do with my arms. All the rest of me seems to be naturally inclined to restful repose upon the Ample Bosoms, except these arms. I never feel quite right about where they should go. Often, even after I do go to sleep, my arms wake me up. They have twisted themselves into awkward, uncomfortable positions or got under some other part of me and cut off their circulation. Why do they do that? They even get themselves trapped under the headboard. When that happens I always wake up, fearful that the demons have got me.

Generally, my ovational skills warn me when these arms are apt to have a particularly fitful night and I try to take a precaution with them. But the only precaution I have come up with is to lie on my back with my arms folded across my breast. This funereal posture, though, always reminds me of funerals which are not a good thing to remember when you are fixing to go to sleep. Anyway, thinking about funerals never helps me go to sleep. Pretty soon I weary of eidetic memories of the various departed, displayed in pose similar to mine own, and roll over. Anon, one of my arms is trapped and wakes me up again. It cries out. I’m trapped. Yer cutting off my circulation.

I am the only person I know who has this restless arm problem. However, it may be a common enough affliction, but an affliction that is too shameful for those afflicted with Crumby’s restless arm syndrome (CRAS) to own up to in public. So I have come forth to let all the CRAS sufferers know that they are not alone. They need not suffer, all alone. Well actually, they do need to continue to suffer pretty much all alone, but now they shall know that at least one other sufferer is likewise suffering all alone too.

Er. Perhaps I should contact a responsible yet kindly party, like Oprah for example, and Oprah shall help me spread the word about this shameful condition. That’s the ticket. I shall write Oprah a letter. This upcoming letter to Oprah shall describe CRAS and its loathsome symptoms in such ghastly yet pitiful terms that Oprah shall open her heart to all the legions of the CRAS afflicted and help us all to hope that we, or our children, or our children’s children or somewhere down the line, shall get some relief from this shameful, silent killer, CRAS. Uh, oh.

No you won't Crumby. You shall not pester Oprah with a letter. And for Goddess Sakes stop talking to yourself out loud, so loud. How do you expect anyone to get any sleep around here? Shut up, Crumby. Now I am going back to bed and I don't want to hear another peep out of you.

Er. Shush. OK. I have to keep very quiet so as not to disturb the CB. But I think everyone may espy from the preceeding what a hideously tedious syndrome CRAS really is. Additional CRAS sufferers, you are not alone!!!!