De Actis Diurnis Praefecti Vigilium
Anno Consulium Imp Caesaris Divi f Augusti VIII et T Statilii Tauri II
Journal of the Prefect of Police,
During the Consulships of the Imperator, Caesar, Son of the God, the Venerable One, 8th Term, and Titus Statilius Taurus, 2nd Term
DIES I – A D XVII KALENDAE MAII
Day 1 – 15 April
If one were to ask me what I hate the most about getting old, it’s sleep. Not sleeping itself, but the difficulty in sleeping.
When I was a youth in the legions, I could sleep deeply for the entire night on a pile of bricks. Now, well into my forty-ninth year, I feel like I’m taking a beating from my own mattress.
Any position I take in bed, I feel the aches of old injuries or the parts of my body that have been worn down by years of marching impedimentus, under full pack. I find the only position that’s not all ache and agony is lying flat on my back … which means I snore … which means Rhonwen, my darlin’ wife, plants an elbow in my ribs to get me to stop.
Then, it’s toss and turn … on my back … snore … elbow … repeat until the sun rises.
Some mornings, I feel like I’ve been beaten … bruised ribs … stiff joints … body parts that just won’t move. Ah, dear gods, for one night of a twenty-year-old’s sleep!