Wild nights
Ever have one of those nights that just goes on and on?I need my sleep, people, and with the schedule I have been keeping lately (work has been kicking my ass), I’ve been lucky to get 4 or 5 hours of sleep a night. I got to bed early last night (for me 11pm is early) and, though I did not know it at the time, began the night that would not end.
At 12:30 am, I woke up sweaty, achy, and fever-y.
After wandering around the house for about 20 minutes letting dogs out, convincing my 14-year-old that she is not sleeping in class but instead sleeping on my new sofa and would she PLEASE wake up enough to take her stinky self up to her own bed, letting dogs back in again, chasing cats out of the garage and back to the barn, and standing stupidly in the half-lit kitchen wondering what I was supposed to be doing there (taking Advil), I finally crawled back into my bed. I was very thankful it was only 1 am and I had a full five more hours of sleep to look forward to.
Until I woke up again at 3 am convinced I overslept because I didn’t hear my alarm – but I heard the damn train, thank you very much Mister Train Conductor. Let me show you what you can do with that fuc8ing train whistle. But it was only 3 am and I still had three more hours of sleep to look forward to.
At 4:30 am, I woke up to hear The Boy take on a wildfire in his sleep. I am still not sure what happened, but flinging was involved. Yes. Flinging. Flinging of water. Flinging of the water glass he keeps on his bedside table. I was very relieved that my closet door was shut because whatever fire he was putting out by flinging his water glass about was successfully quenched. But it was only 4:30 am and I still had and hour and a half of sleep to look forward to.
Somewhere in the 5am neighborhood, I woke up to the sound of my own voice sternly talking to Dog 2. Somehow, he slipped his kennel, and sprawled his body lengthwise across my bed. I will tolerate many things, but a 100-pound yellow lab in my bed at 5 am is not one of them. But it was only 5 am and I still had an hour of sleep to look forward to.
The alarm went off at 5:30 am, a full half-hour before it was supposed to. This is The Boy’s way of trying to kill me, as he never hears the alarm but he is enough of a man to need to Be In Charge of The Alarm and keep it on His Side of the Bed. But he never hears it.***
With the alarm blasting, I rolled the width of our king-sized bed and halfway over The Boy to slam the snooze button and pulled my hand back – wet. The Boy is very good at water flinging in his sleep, I guess – and I am exceptionally lucky that the alarm even went off after its dousing. Trusting that the snooze would work, I wiped my hand on The Boy’s pillowcase and comforted myself with the fact that I still had 30 minutes of sleep to look forward to.
Broken into 9-minute snooze alarm intervals.
I swear; getting to bed early is going to kill me.
***That’s not true. He never hears it unless it means he is supposed to get up and hunt something. Then he is up, dressed, coffee made, and out the door before the 9-minute snooze goes off and wakes me up again.
2 Comments:
well that's a night that sucks royally. Perhaps you can get all snarly and stuff tonight, and demand to be put to bed EARLY and UNDISTURBED.
Unfortunatly, the only time I'm allowed to go to bed early and not be disturbed is that time of the month...and since I've been spayed...
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