Last night was the worst night of sleep ever…how many times can I say the word night. Here’s how it went – last night:
11:45pm – went to bed after watching the Olympics (go Phelps, Franklin, and the American Gymnastics team!!)
2:30am – woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across…haha.. Apologies to the Beatles. No. Woke up, had some water, checked my messages – realized no one I know writes me after 10pm. Went back to bed.
4:45am – jerked awake from some sort of falling dream. What does it all mean? I’m nervous? I’m afraid? Or was it the tomato sauce at dinner? Went to the bathroom – my husband grumbled and asked if I was OK, then promptly fell asleep – I tried to talk to him and he put his head under the covers. I had important stuff to say.
5:35am – his alarm goes off – it sounds like a fog horn by my face. I grumble because it feels like an hour before he leisurely turns it off. I am convinced he hates me.
5:46am – he walks around like an elephant, stomping in and out of the room, slamming drawers, clearing his throat and putting on his socks – loudly. (I think he would have a different story but it’s my blog).
6:00am – he leaves for work. I’m up. Must. Have. Coffee.