knitting in the dark

Someone's watch just beeped, indicating that it's midnight. I try not to direct hostile jealousy in the direction of my husband, who is sleeping soundly. I've been lying in bed for an hour and half, feeling more wide awake with each passing minute. I listen to the ceiling fan whirling above. I feel the slight burn in my esophagus, and realize that the third trimester and all its discomforts are creeping up on me. I make a mental note to pick up some antacid tablets in the morning. I get up and pee for about the fifth time since going to bed. I think about the pile of crappity-crap-crap-crap that is the status of the written portion of my dissertation (the recording part has been going just swimmingly so far), and consider working on it, since I can't sleep anyway...I decide that even though I'm wide awake, neither my brain nor my morale are up for that. I ponder the fact that my dissertation work time is fragments of my day: Daniel's nap time, occasional hours when a babysitter is here, and the evening hours. No wonder it sucks.

I finally give up, get up, and go into the office. The house is dark and quiet, and without turning on any lights, I pick up the garter stitch tomten I started a few days ago. There is a slight glow in the room from the lights on the answering machine, the router, and the power button on the monitor, just enough light for me to see the glint of my metal needles as I knit a few rows of garter stitch by feel.

Then I drop a stitch and realize I have no way of fixing that in the dark. I put it down, turn on the light, and sit at the computer. I wonder how long it will take me to fall asleep tonight.