Climax Interruptus

I have this condition called the I'm-Almost-Done-with-This-Book syndrome. I had an attack today.

It occurs when I'm reading a book and I have gotten to the climax and, just as the tension is building, I get a phone call, someone drops by to tell me about Mormonism, or something explodes and I have to run out of the house for my dear life.

Anyway, I have been reading this one book since summer. It's called Cloudsplitter and it's about the abolitionist John Brown as told by his son Owen, the last surviving member of the raiding party at Harper's ferry, who, by the way, settled in a shack out in Alta Dena after the raid, tending goats and sheep. He's an enigmatic figure because he kept to himself and never much talked about his father or the raid.

Anyway, I've got 20 pages left and I am at the part where the raider's kidnap George Washington's nephew, Col. Lewis Washington, and take him and others hostage in the fire station, when the phone rings. It's a friend. We talk for a bit. I get back to the book.

The phone rings again, just as Oliver Brown walks out of the fire station with a white flag and a hostage and gets shot. Another friend.

It happens again and I let the phone ring and the answering machine clicks on. It's Do. I am 5 pages away from finishing this book, so I figure I'll call her back. She will hopefully understand.

This happens to me almost every time I read a book and get close to the end. I get into the rhythm of the final moments and am really engrossed in what may happen next and I get interrupted. That's why I prefer reading late at night.

Awake!

No, this isn't going to be about some religious conversion. I just wanted to add to yesterday's blog that another benefit of the CPAP is that I haven't felt like dozing off in the middle of the day. There was a time that I thought I had become narcoleptic. I would be in the middle of something--like teaching--and, if there was a moment when I was not being active--say, listening to a student presentation or showing a video clip or sitting in a meeting and listening to the discussion on a topic I had brought up--I would nod off. On days off, I would find myself wanting to nap, even if I had slept in that morning.

On those days that I would complain about being too tired to do anything, folk, you have no idea how wound down I was feeling.

I only noticed yesterday, but I haven't even thought about taking a nap for about three days. And I haven't been sleeping excessively--just around 8 hours. before, I would sleep in and still feel unrested.

We'll see if this holds over when I go back to work, but I have a schedule next semester that should allow me to get to bed earlier.

So, if the people who make CPAP machines need an endorsement, I'm available.

All Clear

So now I have my CPAP machine to help me keep breathing at night, a humidifier attachment to keep my nasal passages from drying out (and man do they dry out), a perscription for allegra, a perscription for flonase, and I'm good to go. The two medications clear me right up so I can breath through my nose. So I have been using the CPAP for the past few nights and it works like a dream.

Just before I satrted using it again, I actually had a dream where I could not breath. It was so real, my lack of breathing in dreamland caused me to wake up and gasp for air. I suspect it was one of those dreams that was triggered by the reality that I had actually stopped breathing.

I've been able to sleep the past couple of nights without any of that happening. Usually get the full eight hours. I still wake up a couple of times (I think three times last night), but I am still able to drop right back off into winkin-blinkin-and-nod-land. Some of the same things that usually keep my brain spinning are still there, lurking, but they don't keep me up.

Billy C, Ben, Jackson, and Me

The Folk Music Center celebrated its 50th anniversary last night. I didn't get an invite, but all of the other Canaries did.

Billy C either found or got his invite yesterday, so he e-mailed me and we decided to go.

I at first thought that it would be like a tiny reception with maybe some snacks and stuff. So I left the house without my ax. Billy C brought his, which is when the light pinged in my head: this is a FOLK MUSIC center, people will probably play music, people will probably be INVITED to play music. So, I went in unarmed, but I figured that I could borrow Billy C's if there was an invitation to play.

Then I realized, hey Ben Harper owns this place. This may actually be quite the shindig!

Harper's grandparents, Charles and Dorothy Chase, first opened the Folk Music Center and Ben, when he became successful, bought it.

So, now I realized this shindig might actually be a hullabaloo!

We got there and a line had already formed, just like open mike night. Ellen, Harper's mother and the store's manager, opened the doors, and, sure enough, this was set up to be a real party. As guests walked in, they received commemorative t-shirts--they even had one in my size. And a gourmet buffet had been spread in front of the guitar wall. Harper himself had just snagged a gourmet cupcake as he greeted old friends from town.

As I shuffled through from the door to where the eats were, I looked behind me and there was Jackson Browne. Other players were there, band members and such. The stage had been set up, so clearly there would be music.

Ellen announced that anyone who wanted to play could get up and play one song. A guy with a kazoo got up and played "Happy Birthday." As the first few players performed, I thought about going up myself, but the acts got better and better. I thought about doing "The Green-Eyed Dragon" a capella, but the acts just kept getting better. Then Ben Harper and Jackson Browne performed.

I should mention here that the Folk Center is not all that big and could hold, at best, maybe a hundred people for concert purposes. So, I'm standing maybe 15 feet from the stage.

So they were good and they stuck, technically, to the one song per person rule. At the end of his song, Harper thanked everyone for coming and I thought that was the end. And I decided that I was not going to follow them if it wasn't.

People kept going up. Ben returned to the stage often, sometimes with his mother, sometimes with other musicians. The evening ended with "Goodnight Irene."

A good time.

Things I Saw This Christmas

A guy standing out in the rain on a traffic island on Mission Blvd. holding assign pointing out his taco shop, which was open for business.

A homeless guy standing in the rain on a freeway off ramp holding a sign wishing everyone a merry Christmas. He was scowling at the passing cars and shouting profanities.

A couple visiting Mama Canary's new assisted living facility with three dogs on a leash.

My DVD of the Soweto Gospel Choir.

Some people from either the coroner's office or a funeral home removing someone in a body bag as Mama C and I left to go catch a movie.

Doubt. The movie. See it.

After the film, in the men's room, a guy standing at the urinal next me missing--basically peeing on the floor without bothering to correct himself.

Two colleagues of mine (actually, one is now a former colleague) who met at my school, fell in love, and got married.

A huge woman at El Torito who not only talked with her mouth full, but sometimes had food hanging out of it.

The Christmas lights up and down the Wood streets while Christmas music played on the radio.

An ambulance in my rear view window.

Soweto Gospel Choir

I felt like I had never heard Amazing Grace before and will never be satisfied hearing anywhere else in any other way. And the whole concert was like this.

They sang traditional songs as well as popular (but not "pop") songs. And every one was a gem. And every time I asked myself how they could possibly move on and top the song they had just sung, they did.

And the dancing was energetic and wild. And they did a lot of it while singing. And I couldn't see how they could possibly do both. But they did.

The performance of Amazing Grace included four soloists, each of whom sang relatively straightforward with some improvisational flourishes and they were all beautiful. But then a final soloist came out and took her verse into a completely different musical universe. Then all of the soloists sang their verses at one time, improvising off of one another in a kind of dialog between sinners testifying. I just don't know how they did it or why it worked so well--but it was blindingly gorgeous.

They finished with a performance of several Christmas carols, some reworked with an African beat. They kept asking the audience to sing along and normally I would have but I didn't want to miss a note of their singing.

The carols were kind of an encore. Except the group didn't leave the stage to be called back. They just stayed in hopes of wearing the audience out. And wear me out they did. This was music as a catharsis, which good gospel music is. But I could have listened to this well into the night.

Let's face it, this is the worst holiday season in my lifetime, but this concert was the the best gift I could ever receive.

End of an Era

I'm becoming more Buddhist in my thinking these days. Not actual Buddhism--more like Buddhist lite. Most of my enlightenment comes from movies about Buddhism. Like Little Buddha. There's this scene of some monks creating a mandala. A Lama explains to Kris Issak how, once the mandala is completed, it will be swept away with the stroke of a hand.

Our life experiences are like that. Never go into creating something thinking it is permanent. It will save you a lot of aggravation.

My teaching colleague, with whom I have been teaching for 7 and 1/3 years worked his last day yesterday. He has been hire to be an Assistant Principal in another district at a middle school, where he will make his living yelling at hyper-active 7th graders.

Just kidding about that last part.

Sorta.

So, yesterday, our class had a surprise party for him. Pretty simple, really. A couple of kids put together a slide show of the greatest moments in class so far. Then, I gave all of the students a chance to say something to him about how he has influenced their lives.

Lotsa laughs. Lotsa tears.

He then held a raffle, during which he gave away his school-logo type shirts and a few other items.

I threw in an extra surprise. I had just got an account on Facebook and had started getting friend requests form former students. So I made a secret group and spent a little time hunting down other former students and adding them as friends, then inviting them to join my group. At the group site, I shared the info about my colleague's leaving and invited them to come on campus and help us say good-bye to him at the party.

I got about 30 students. Two showed up in uniform. They spanned our entire history together, going as far back as 2001. It was pretty cool.

Then, we showed another slideshow composed of pictures going back about 4 years, which was put together by another student.

Many laughs. Many tears.

The strangest thing is that all of these former students looked pretty much the same age to me. So I kept forgetting that not all of them knew each other.

Anyway, it was a good time.

I'll have a new partner next semester. Time for a new mandala.

I Sight a Predator

As I hiked the Roob at dusk tonight, I spied I furry little bunny who had just hopped across the road and up into the bushes ahead of me. Just after that, about five yards ahead of me, I spied what I thought might be another bunny--but, by the length of its furry tail, realized was a fox. Whether it was hunting the bunny, I know not. It wasn't much bigger than the bunny.

Anyway, it didn't seem to notice me at first. Once it had crossed the road into the bushes uphill, it stopped and looked at me as I kept walking. Once I passed it, I stopped, turned around and stared back at it. There we stood for a few minutes, staring at one another. It was a fox alright and, even though it was almost dark out, I could see it very clearly.

We were probably no more than 20 feet apart. If he had wanted to, he could have leaped from the hill and gone for my jugular. If I had wanted to, I could have thrown a rock and hit him.

I ended our showdown and walked away.

I've seen coyotes, deer, various birds of prey, raccoons--but never a fox until tonight.

Uke at Do's

We hadn't played together for awhile, so Do and I decided to to try tonight. Billy C couldn't make, seeing's how how his beaked was stuffed up due to a recent bizarre snorkeling accident.

So I go to Do's. We decided to play all of these songs with lots of chords, starting with "If I Only Had a Brain" The version she has is in a key unfriendly to both of our voices. I have a version at school in a friendlier key, but that did us no good. So we look on the internet to see if we can find that version, or a simialr one. Of course, since this is a mega-chord song, we felt it would be best if the actual chord fingerings would be there with the song.

We found one and played awhile, but Do thought some of the chord progressions from her version would work better if they could be transposed. But the chords are like D6 with an subliminal 9th and C12 with an dislocated 2nd and stuff like that. You know, the kind that take tentacles instead of fingers to make.

I find that I get frustrated trying to figure stuff like that out as a committee. I tend to want to go off and figure it out myself or just play the damn thing. I think it's a product of me not being an experienced musician and not having as much patience as I think I have. Even so, I Usually like what comes out of that process. Do has more experience with that than I do. Do, on the other hand, has a lot more experience than me working with other musicians and hammering out an arrangement. Anyway, I found myself spiraling into terminal crank mode. I think she sensed my frustration, so we moved on to "Paper Moon."

So I guess she wins the diplomacy award. I win the cranky award.

This was also a little frustrating because of one tricky chord change, but, after having played this song half-assedly for about a year, I had an epiphany as to how that chord change could be more easily accomplished. I find that, where possible, if I just bar the offensive chord, that usually leads to a solution of some sort. This solution started out with barring and ended with sliding my fingers from the barred chord to the unbarred chord. Also, I have always had trouble with the bridge on this song, but we worked that out too. Didn't exactly nail the song, but we played through it enough that we can both practice it and eventually get it down.

We also tried "I'll See You in My Dreams." Our fingers were twisting all over that fretboard.

We fizzled into "Sway" and tried working into "Perhaps. Perhaps, Perhaps," but we didn't know that song well enough. "Sway" is perfect for Do's voice and, when I first heard her sing it, I thought it would be cool to work "Perhaps into it it somehow as either a dialog between two dancers or even an inner dialog for a woman.

A lot of baby steps for me tonight. So I got a lot to practice this week.

Another Insightful Political Commentary

I admit that I've noticed this, but I didn't think that anyone would actually WRITE about it. I'm talking about this article in Salon about Michelle Obama's ass. I mean, I've seen commentary about each first lady's fashion sense and appearance, but to actually write about something this specific? Are we supposed to be thinking about this?

I think a little less of myself for posting this.

And I do admire the Obamas.

Update on Things BABoR

I stopped using the CPAP for a few nights. I had just gotten over a cold and still had some congestion and couldn't breath very comfortably with it. I will probably get the optional face mask for such occasions. You just can't have too many breathing tubes. I could also get an optional humidifier attachment for if I become too dry nasalwise. I am dried out sometimes, but not uncomfortably so.

I was really tired when I finally got that thing, so my first couple of times with it, I slept pretty soundly. The last couple of nights I have awaken the usual four times, but have usually fallen right back to sleep. I wake up feeling more rested, so that's a good thing.

Mind you, I don't think the CPAP directly affects my ability to sleep. It's only purpose is to keep me breathing at night. But I think the airflow soothes me and encourages me to breath deeply.


I lost a tooth implant. It fell out of my mouth and then fell out of whichever pocket I put it in. It is an old design and sounds, by what my new dentist told me, that it will be more trouble to replace than it is worth. Yet, it needs to be replaced.


Yet, I have at least two relatives with several missing teeth, and they seem to survive.


Like everyone else, my retirement fund is taking a beating.


I'm sinking into post-election ennui. I am very happy Obama won. I read the news--mostly online, since our local paper has basically become a propaganda tool for the Republican party. I think the 24-hour-a-day news cycle that we now have makes everything a little overwhelming and at the same time gets boring, because, let's face it, how much can really change every ten minutes?

I am basically old fashioned, news-wise. I think it works best when I just get a massive dose once a day and that stop thinking about these things for awhile.

Improv in the Classroom

Friday. It started during 2nd period. We were reading a selection from a novelized version of The Ramayana.A kid was reading the battle between Rama and the demon Ravana and, as I customarily do, I interrupted him to read a passage in my melfluous baritone. I had interrupted several students, kinda on purpose for comedic effect.

So, this time he interrupts me back, trying to be more dramatic. "Aha," I says to myself, "two can play this game," and I re-interrupted him. It became a kind of jam session/competition.

So the next period, I says to my teaching partner, "Why don't we do the same thing this period with you and me trading off?"

"Sure," he says.

So I begin to read the same battle-scene passage, once again in dulcet tones. Soon, my colleague interrupts me, trying to out-drama me. We go back and forth a little.

Then, he gets up on a desk top and starts walking across the desks, reading as he goes.

I then go to my prop closet (where I keep various thingies that students have left in my room unclaimed over the years) and pull out a retractable light saber and read while swinging and thrusting about the room, stabbing the occasional unsuspecting student.

Pretty soon, are flying about the room, putting on wigs and beards, throwing stuffed animals and other soft toys at one another. At one point, my colleague reads a passage as a rap. I pull out my uke and improvise a song in response, using a simple three-chord progression.

This went on for about ten minutes longer than it should have, but the students had a good time.

I got a couple of compliments on the song and have even began working out some actual lyrics based on the book.

The chorus:

Rama, forget your trauma.
Just chant your mantra
and you'll be just fine.
Ravana, don'tcha wanna
get right with yourself?

That's kinda the theme of the book right there.

Where I Was

I'm not very good at calculating how long it takes to do things. But I try sometimes.

I teach a night class at Rio de Nada Community College, Sou Mo Campus. The class meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I had scheduled individual conferences in place of the regular class meetings--not noticing that it would take place during election week. So, last week I asked the students if anyone would like to come in early for their conference and, of course, most of them did. So I started the meetings at 5 and finished them by around 8--giving me time (so I thought) to go somewhere and watch the election results come in.

I thought the vote-counting process would take longer.

I was tired (sleep continues to be an issue for me). But I had two stops to get to.

The first one was at a friend's house. It was on the way to the 2nd one at Back to the Grind.

As I got out of my car, a friend was leaving my 1st stop. He told me that McCain had just given his concession speech.

Dang! I would have liked to see that Live, that is.

I got into the party just in time to see Obama and his family walk out onto the stage.

What a speech. People in the room, not all of whom are strong supporters, wept. I left soon after because I was tired.

I showed both speeches to my classes the next day. I don't do this sort of thing often because I don't like to foist my politics on a captive audience. But this was historic. A barrier had been breached.

My other point for showing the speeches was to show how it's supposed to be after an election. One candidate concedes, graciously, and pledges his support to the winner--reminding his followers that we are all fellow citizens. The other humbly accepts the victory and strikes a conciliatory tone towards the other side.

Yeah, I know the fighting is about to start again, but there needs to be a cleansing in this country--kinda like right after 9/11, where people unite. Yeah, I know we actually became a more divided nation and that our president steered our attention away from who the real enemies were, but RIGHT after, we were pretty united.

I teach at an ethnically diverse school. When I played the Obama speech, some kids wept like Jesse Jackson. I know a lot of people don't like Jesse, or Al, for that matter. But Jesse Was there for much of the civil rights movement and saw a lot of people go down before their time. When you think of how many people died on the road to civil rights, you have to admit this is a pretty amazing election.

Bobby Kennedy predicted in 1961 that we might see an African American president within 40 years. He was about 7 years off. But that's a pretty good prediction.

Mama Canary Votes

So I go to Mama C's assisted living place Sunday Night and get her to fill out her absentee ballot. I knew that she wouldn't do it on her own. So, I read her each item and she told me what to mark. There were a couple of votes I didn't agree with, but it's her vote.

She was glad she got to vote. Today, I dropped it off at the registrar's office.

Go Obama!

Snore No More

It's some kind of National Blog Month or something. I missed yesterday, but I am going to try to blog every day this month, no matter how short or stupid the post is.

I got a CPAP machine. I have no idea what CPAP stands for, but it's supposed to help me with my sleep apnea. I'm supposed to wear it when ever I sleep.

I always expected these things to be heavy and uncomfortable, but this isn't so bad. It's like the gizmo I wore for testing my sleep-breathing requirements a couple of weeks ago.

I strap this tube to my nose, using this head thingy that is soft a stretchable. It's not too tight. I push two buttons and the airflow starts and then increases gradually to my level of need. The nose piece is soft, pliable plastic. It blows air to my nostrils as I inhale. I can breath through my mouth if I want, but this machine kinda fights back to discourage me. So, presumably, I breath through my nose all night, thus preventing snoring and, more importantly, preventing the stoppage of my breathing.

The danger with sleep apnea, of course, is that you stop breathing in your sleep--and it's possible that you won't start again. It also prevents you from going through the entire sleep cycle and missing your most restive sleep. It can effect things like your memory, your blood sugar levels, and your heart, among other things.

Anyway, so I seem to wake up less often at night with this thing on(I used to wake up around four times a night and then have trouble getting back to sleep). When I do wake up, I tend to go back to sleep. The air flow encourages deep breathing, which relaxes me, which eases me back to sleep.

I think I still have trouble shutting off my brain at night, but this seems to be a good first step in solving my sleep problems.

"W"

Went and saw this with Do.

This film turned Oliver Stone into the Anti-Stone in that he didn't spend the whole film hitting you over the head with his perspective. Instead, it was a high energy flatline. It fell short of everything it pretended to be.

The first of my concerns is whether or some of the details from Bush's life and presidency were true as depicted in the film. A few incidents have been in the public dialog for some time, but others were new to me.

The few reviews I have read praised several actors for not being caricatures of the people they portrayed. But That was one of the problems. As fine as many of the actors were, they were flat caricatures. Most of them played their parts on one note.

I chuckled a couple of times, but never felt any empathy for any of the characters. About an hour into it, I was anxious for it to end.

Let me be clear that I hate what W and his cronies have done to this country. But this film did nothing for me.

Debate 3

Tonight's debate was underwhelming for me. It didn't change my vote.

But one thing I found funny and very informative. Towards the end of the debate, John McCain laughed at a joke he had made and snorted. I don't think I want a president who snorts when he laughs.

New Heart, New Job

I have 5 years until my projected retirement. I may be wrong, but I am determined to NOT work full-time past that date, even if my 401K doesn't rebound. I have this philosophy about quality of life being as important as money. I joke about living in my car, but sometimes I'm not sure that I am.

My friend Tom got to retire early at 55. His doctor told him that he needed to for his health. He had high blood pressure. He and his wife discussed this and decided that, with his Calstrs (Teacher's retiement) and her income (she's in banking), they could live very comfortably.

The part she left out was that she was seeing another man and had planned on divorcing Tom very soon.

So Tom retired, divorced, got an alimony settlement from his wife, stayed retired for about ten years.

His alimony settlement comes up for renegotiation next year and he decided that he would not go through a courtroom battle to continue getting payments--partly because their adult son has asked that they not go through another big fight.

So he decides to go back and teach a few more years.

Then he has a heart attack.

Then he has triple bypass.

Now, seven weeks later, he gets a call from the district where we both used to teach together. They have an opening. Would he be interested?

So, seven weeks after a triple bypass, he may have a job.

I counseled him against it, but his doctor has told him to go for it.

My reasons for it are because, after his bypass, he has made the time to eat right and exercise regularly--something he has never done in all of the years I have known him. I told him that having a job where he had to be on premises at fixed times--AND take home work on weekends, AND join committees, AND deal with students in all of their most and least pleasant manifestations--he would soon find himself making excuses and pretty soon going back to his old habits, which would be a bad thing.

But he's going to do it anyway.

Part of Tom's problem is that he didn't have much of a plan for retirement--at least not as a single man. He's tried other things, but kind of half-assedly. He tried real estate, but let his focus be drawn away by this crazy woman he was seeing at the time. He thought he might like working at a winery and settled in at this design-a-winery in town, where customers got to order wine mixed to their specifications. I don't know how it worked, but the wine tastes like soda to me and the owners had no head for business, so they never had customers.

I guess I just want to live in a world where everybody gets a prolonged recess after working hard all of their lives--one where they get to recreate themselves into new beings.

I guess you've just gotta let people choose their own poison.

Religulous and "Pundits"

So a gaggle of us saw Bill Maher's Religulous Sat Night.

The good news: Billy C and I got senior discounts without asking.

The bad news: Billy C and I got senior discounts without asking.

When I realized what had happened, I felt like going back to the window and demanding that the young lady take more of my money.

The film entertained me. But here's my complaints about Bill Maher, whom I think is funny and whose shows I have always enjoyed:

1. The vast majority of the people he talked to were ridiculous people who had no idea how ridiculous they sounded. Other than a couple of catholic priests and one scientist, most of the people he interviewed were fringe people who clung a cartoon version of religion. It was hard to take them seriously. A couple of interviews with muslims were also pretty calm--but I find it hard to judge all believers by extremists. I know from panels Maher has had on both Politically Incorrect and Real Time, that he knows of religious leaders who have a more intelligent view on faith. Maybe it would not have been the same film, but why not talk to a few of those people.

2. Just as with his book When You Ride Alone, You Ride with bin Laden, he interrupts important points to remind you that he tells jokes for a living. It's as if he doesn't trust the material enough to let it speak, and get laughs, for itself.

3. He's a smart guy, but, like most contemporary "pundits," he doesn't have all of the answers. He may have a lot of them, but not all of them. I get tired of "pundits" who have no more qualifications than you or me telling me what to think. Ask the questions, Bill. I'll do the thinking for myself.

But I am glad I saw it.

Electronic Elephant Trunk

I went in for a follow-up on my sleep study. You may recall that the therapist gave me a gizmo that I had to strap around myself. I then had to sleep on my back while numerous electrodes monitored my sleep patterns. Eve though I took a sleeping pill, I only slept for about 1 1/2 hours, woke up, and spent the rest of the night on my back trying to get back to sleep--getting up once to rage against the porcelain.

So, this time a therapist gave me breathing gizmo used for people afflicted with sleep apnea--which I believe is one of the reasons I have a hard time feeling rested when I get up. She starts talking about the results of my test and I interrupt her to interject that, while they wanted about 5 hours worth of sleep data, I may have only given them 1 1/2 hours. She replied, "So you cat-napped the rest of the night." I said "No, I stayed awake the rest of the 5 hours and then took the gizmo off. She sad, "Yes, catnapped." I said "No, catnapped."

I decided that, since I did think that I had sleep apnea, arguing was pointless. I would just bring it up when I talked to my doctor next time.

The purpose of giving me the new gizmo was to determine the specific gizmi that I might have to attach to my personal gizmo when I get it: like a humidifier attachment and who knows what else.

The gizmo was much smaller than I expected--about the size of a small CD player. It had a tube attached to a face mask that attached to a hole through which air pumped in to my nasal area. It would keep my nasal area full of air so my breathing tube wouldn't be closed off. She said I could return it Sunday, so I figured I had it for three nights.

Night 1 I could breath alright, but the noise kept me awake So detached myself from the gizmo.

Night 2 I took a pill and, although my nose was a little stuffed, I slept for a little while. When I awoke, my nose was more stuffed , so I detached from the gizmo again.

Tonight, I will take a sleeping pill my allergy pill, and snort some nasal spray and see how that works.