Friday, June 18, 2010

Post Midnight snacks

We just had a wonderful five day visit with my in-laws from S.C. and our adorable 4 yr. old niece, Sadie, who hails from L.A. Great time, busy house, non-stop action! I love my in-laws. They are always a good time and I so enjoy spending time with them. My poor mother-in-law, Jackie is currently laid up with a separated shoulder (horse riding injury) and she managed to get a very debilitating 24 hr. respiratory ick while she was here. Not fun to see her miserably coughing, hacking and sneezing, but she rallied, trooper that she is and managed to host a fabulous dinner party for 15 people last night. It was an enjoyable summer evening, with good food, great friends and lots of laughs. I retired to my boudoir at about 10:30 last night and drifted off into a dreamless sleep...until 4:00 a.m.

My eyes popped open as if I had just heard cannon fire, except there wasn't any noise at all. I checked the clock and my heart sank. NOT 4 a.m. again!!! This hour has been my nemesis for the last few nights. Ever have one of those sleep cycles that awaken you at an ungodly hour and torture you for two, or three hours with relentless, restless thoughts and multiple songs, running on a loop through your sleep deprived brain stem? Anyone who hasn't experienced this particular Hell is damn lucky. I feel as though I brought this random insomnia upon myself, because last week I found myself bragging (yes, bragging) to a friend about how I can control my thoughts when these unwelcome awakenings disturb our precious sleep patterns. I'm clearly a total ass. I said this to myself several times in the wee hours of what turned out to be a gorgeous, sultry day. After several minutes, I decided to get up and see if Big Zekie had decided to come home and was waiting for me on the front porch. Wrapped in a silk robe, I tiptoed by my slumbering, sweet niece, who lay prone in a cherubic pose on the living room sofa. I went onto the porch and hissed, "Zekie? Zekie, are you there?" Within seconds he appeared in the driveway and made his way up to the house. He had left before the guests had arrived last night and missed his dinner, so I made him a small meal and then went into the bathroom for a quick pit stop. I'm not sure of how long I was out of bed, but my best guess is no more than 20 minutes. As I slid back into bed I thought I might have detected a feeling of moisture on my upper leg. Must be my imagination, I said to myself. Jonathan was sleeping soundly and I nestled back into the bed, anxious to return to sleep for a couple more hours. A few minutes later Miss Girl came into the bedroom and shockingly joined me on the bed. I say shockingly because she used to always sleep with me, but for the last two years she has abstained from our bed for no apparent reason. It pained me at first, but I got used to it. She's an old lady, after all and has a right to change her sleeping spots at her discretion. Feeling like I should give her a warm welcome, I forgot about my iminent plans for slumber and patted her head and cheeks. She settled into a good position and once again I began to concentrate on going to sleep. I was so comfortable, the house was quiet, Jonathan wasn't snoring, so why couldn't I go back to sleep? I decided to do a brief rearrangement of position and that's when I felt the moisture again. WHAT THE HELL!! My body twitched and spasmed in place, Miss Girl headed for the hills (which briefly made me sad and guilty) and I screamed, "What the F#@k!!!! Panting slightly, I turned on the light and saw a small "thingie" in the bed. Was it a snail? The cats sometimes get them stuck to their fur and bring the poor hapless snails into the house. Good explanation, but it wasn't the culprit Ewwww. I rolled the small, fleshy piece of whatever across the sheet and then I realized what it was. It was the leftover guts from a very recent rodent feast. Ohh, last straw. Damn cats. I shuddered and put the nasty bit into my bedside ashtray (I know, this is just as gross as mouse guts, but I do smoke in bed sometimes). Unbelievable. A cat, either Marbles (most likely), or Mia had brought a "snack" to bed, eaten the majority during my brief foray into the living room/bathroom and left me a small tidbit in case I was jonesing for mouse offal... in my freakin' bed. Some people might never fall asleep in their beds again after finding mouse guts under their sheets. Fortunately, I've been broken down by the repeated appearance of dead carcasses in my home. Am I becoming immune to their disgusting habits? Apparently so, because I drifted back to sleep around 5:30 a.m.ish and when I awoke at 6:30 I had to check my ashtray to see if the mouse gut incident was a dream. Nope. 'Twas reality. I left Jonathan sleeping soundly as I got up to make coffee and feed the cats, dogs and horses. Once Jonathan awoke and I shared the details of early a.m. gut findings he asked me to never tell him such a story again. Ever. I admit, it's truly disgusting. The fresh sheets are warm in the dryer as I type and I'm about to make the bed. My only hope for this evening is that I can sleep seamlessly until at least six a.m. this next morning. And, please God, no more unpleasant surprises in my bed! Please. And maybe Miss Girl will give sleeping next to me another chance, but I can't be greedy at this point. I'll take a solid eight hours of sleep and worry about coaxing Miss Girl back another time. Have I mentioned that I really love my life? Really.

1 comment: