It has been a day that was full to the brim and may have even involved two-point-five hours on the phone, split pretty much evenly between Christy and Sister. Thankfully, with my Bluetooth earpiece that Hubs and the boy bought me for Christmas, I can walk around the house and accomplish all the household chores, like picking up the boy’s stray socks and unloading the dishwasher, all while I talk without squeezing a phone against my shoulder.
Or I can sit on the sofa for two-point-five hours with a cup of Coffee-Mate-laced coffee with a cup of hot chocolate chaser, and I can simply have my hands PLUM FREE to make wide gestures while I talk and NOT clean the house.
So there was that this morning, but don’t tell Hubs, because he is convinced that girls probably waste a lot of time on the phone. Hence, the presentation of the Bluetooth, wrapped in fine, gold Christmas paper.
People, Columbus didn’t discover America in a day. I need a little time to adjust to the novelty of just HAVING MY HANDS FREE while I talk, and the best way to do that is to just stay calm and sit on the sofa.
I’m trying to convince myself that, without ACTUALLY HOLDING A PHONE TO MY EAR, I am NOT just talking to MYSELF, because that’s exactly what it feels like at first.
But I’m rambling.
I’d also like to say that I am more well-rested than I was during last night’s post, but I am not, because I seem to have some sleep issues that are probably not going to go away without a serious kick to the head with an iron boot. Apparently I am what one might refer to as a HIGH MAINTENANCE SLEEPER, who apparently gave sleeping up for Lent six years ago and never took it back.
And that is quite an accomplishment for a nice Baptist girl to do.
Hubs and I crawled into bed with a big issue to discuss last night. We have a bit of a situation on our hands which requires a decision, and the suggestions that I have do not align themselves with the suggestions that Hubs has. And Hubs has some suggestions which I simply frown at with my I JUST BIT A STRONG LEMON sort of face, so we skated around and around in verbal circles last night with zero-point-zero answers. You might just say that it’s something that’s exactly as difficult as naming a baby is.
Because OH MY WORD, but did Hubs have some suggestions for THAT when we were pregnant with the boy which most certainly did not align themselves with MY SUGGESTIONS.
(Because Hubs wanted to name the boy Claude.)
(It was after his favorite Colorado Avalanche player.)
(He thought Claude was a tough name.)
(I didn’t want the playground version to become Dirt Claude at school.)
(The boy’s name is not Claude, because I WON.)
So… With no real answer for our situation last night, Hubs announced, “Let’s just go to sleep and discuss it tomorrow.” And apparently Hubs meant LET’S GO TO SLEEP RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND! RIGHT THIS SECOND!, because in one blink of a nanosecond, Hubs was out cold.
And right now, Hubs is having some sinus issues, which the boy and I have already suffered through this season, so Hubs does not have the luxury of breathing out of his God-given nasal passages right now, which meant that in four nanoseconds after he’d conked out, Hubs began to snore.
(Yes, I kicked him)
(And he didn’t even flinch, because of the fact that HUBS CAN PRODUCE THE INDUCTION OF A COMA-LIKE SLEEP IN LESS TIME THAN IT TAKES LIGHTNING TO SMACK A TREE. And he is proud of this ability, and he emphasizes that it is exactly how God intended sleep to be, and then he re-emphasizes that I INDEED HAVE SLEEP PROBLEMS, WHICH HE DOESN’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT WHILE HE IS GETTING HIS SLEEP ON. Thank you very much. And I’ll see you in the morning.)
So, what with all the sinus-problem-causing-snoring going on, I grabbed my pillow and a blanket, and I went to the living room sofa, because we seem to enjoy the game of Musical Beds around this house.
And that is when Cat 2, who (unfortunately) is still with us, decided that howling was the way to go. She walked around the house sounding just like an air-raid siren, letting everyone know that YOUR GAS MASKS SHOULD BE LOWERED OVER YOUR FACES AT THIS TIME, AND PLEASE! CRAWL BENEATH A SCHOOL DESK FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY! The town crier had NOTHING on Cat 2 last night.
Cat 2 and I are about to go to war, and, like one who can see the future, I already know who’s going to win, because I have two thumbs.
When I finally DID fall asleep, I dreamed that I was in the middle of a non-Christmas gift-giving occasion. It was summer out, with leaves on the trees. And Hubs and the boy had given me a wrapped present, which turned out to be two stockings. Two red, fluffy, totally-mismatched stockings of the variety that you might HANG FROM THE CHIMNEY WITH CARE so that the man in the red suit can fill them with bath Crayons and oranges. And I put those two stockings on my feet, exactly like one might do with… say… SOCKS, and then I put a pair of shoes on. And Hubs asked, “Do they fit?” Because even in my dreams, Hubs is hilarious, because he has a misconception that my shoes are the size of aircraft carriers, and that Goose and Maverick could actually land a fighter jet on my Nike.
And this dream, people, was achieved without the help of drugs of any kind.
Which makes me think that yes! I may have some sleep issues after all, and perhaps Hubs might know what he’s talking about this one time, even if he did want to name the boy Claude eleven years ago.
My unproductivity today is greatly linked to the fact that I could use a little sleep.
And apparently I am married to Rip Van Winkle.
Happy Wednesday night, y’all.