I Don’t Blame The Grinch For Complaining About All The Noise, Noise, NOISE!

We just had a lovely dinner of baked pork chops with mashed potatoes, with a side of thick, hearty bread, straight from the bakery.  It was so fresh, I think the ladies in the white aprons probably pulled it straight from their conventional ovens at the store, about three minutes before we bought it this afternoon.  We slathered it with butter and nestled big slices of it on our plates, right next to those potatoes.

And now I’m kind of regretting my failure to choose something light, like a Caesar salad or some ice cubes or even air to go next to the potatoes.  Sometimes carbs deceive you into believing they’re your friend, when, in actuality, they’re nothing but a lying snake in the garden.

In other words, hello pajama bottoms with your cherished elastic waistband!

The pajama bottoms are going to serve me well right directly, because I intend to put them to good use with an early bedtime.

And seeing as how ALL my bedtimes are early bedtimes, I should clarify by saying AN EARLIER THAN NORMAL BEDTIME.

This wasn’t the weekend where we slept.

On Thursday night, Hubs watched a recorded hockey game, while I went to bed and read a book.  The book was so riveting, I lasted about nine minutes, before I had to take my teeth out, put them in the jar on the bedside table, pull the hearing aides out, and yank the covers up to my chin.

At some point before 10:00, Hubs must’ve come to bed.  I’d like to say that I noticed, but the honest truth is… I didn’t.  Which clearly means that burglars could’ve broken in and robbed me blind, because EXHAUSTION.

And then, at exactly 10:08, Hubs sat bolt-upright in bed and hollered, “Is it only 10:00?!!”

I snapped awake, with my blood pressure high enough to explode the top of my head off.  I squinted at the bedside clock.


“It’s 10:08!”

“No, it’s not!  It’s… like… 3:00 in the morning!  You messed with the clocks, didn’t you?!  I know you moved them WAY BACK, so that I’d only THINK it was 10:00, when it’s really 3:00.”


I’m sure you’re as confused about that statement as I was, at 10:08 PM on Friday night, after having been yanked out of my REM.

Hubs was talking in his sleep.

Or rather, Hubs was hollering in his sleep, as his brain was tremendously concerned that it couldn’t possibly be JUST 10:08!!

Thankfully, he was out cold again, three seconds later, and had zero memory of being flustered by the time on the bedside clock, when he got up on Friday morning.

In fact, he went so far as to say that I had made the entire thing up, because he doesn’t think he would ever yell hysterically in his sleep.

I was awake from 10:08 PM to sometime around 1:30 AM, when my adrenaline finally calmed down enough to go back to sleep.

On Friday night, Hubs and the boy went to the golf course for dinner, as they’d scheduled a Man’s Night Out together.  They ordered prime rib and fillets, and sent me pictures of their dinner, while Thing 2 and I ate cereal at home.  Then they went to see the new Star Wars movie at the theater.  Meanwhile, I tucked Thing 2 into bed at 8:00… and I went to sleep at 9:00.  My twenty-one-year-old self shudders to think that her destiny as a forty-something woman was going to land her smack in bed, sound asleep, before 9:00 on a Friday night.  She shudders, because that would’ve been a horrid waste of an entire bottle of Aqua Net hairspray and bangs that defied gravity.

(God bless 1991.)

Later on, Hubs and I woke up at 12:30 in the morning to both of our iPhones SCREAMING out an Amber Alert, for two missing boys, several states away.  Apple didn’t mess around when they put the alarm for public Amber Alerts into their phones.  I think their design team rubbed their chins and said, “Let’s make the alarm for Amber Alerts sound like a tornado siren… EXCEPT LOUDER.  Let’s make the alarm on just one iPhone capable of alerting twelve entire counties of the Amber Alert.  In fact, let’s outdo SONIC BOOMS.”

And so they did.

Hubs and I had no idea, until our first set of Amber Alerts screamed across our phones at 12:30 in the morning.  I was out of bed, standing, with enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to lift a Greyhound bus up with one hand, before I was even fully awake.  We were both frantically trying to MAKE IT STOP!  MAKE IT STOP!!!  MAKE ALL THE NOISE STOOOPPPP!!!!!  Apple was going to have me banging on their front door, had they woken Thing 2 up.

So… it goes without saying that I wasn’t about to just RELAX AND GO BACK TO SLEEP, like Hubs did… four minutes after we’d silenced the alarms.  Nope.  I was doomed to be awake, so I prayed for the boys who were taken by their non-custodial parent, several states away from us…

… and then I stayed awake in bed, thinking about six thousand, four hundred and nine more other things, for the next two hours.

And then last night, the owls in the trees behind our house decide to party.  Apparently, Saturday night means something to owls, as they get the gang together for some loud music and a sing-a-long.

We have three owls.

The reason that I know we have three owls is because there are three VERY DISTINCT owl “voices” outside, whenever they decide to work themselves up in a hooting frenzy, which is a couple times every week.  You can very clearly distinguish their different sounds.  They are so loud and obnoxious, I want nothing more than to march outside and cause them death.

MUCH LIKE they caused the bunny who has lived beneath our pine tree for more than a year.

OH, YES!!  We have had a little cotton-tailed bunny, who keeps kept himself busy beneath the pine tree near our driveway, for at least a year now.  He would dart out once in a while, but, for the most part, he stuck close to the tree.

When we pulled into our driveway last Tuesday afternoon, there was our beloved cotton-tailed friend…

… looking exactly like the victim in a horror film.  I was APPALLED at the crime scene.  I was tearful.  I made the boy go get a shovel and dispose of our wild bunny.

And right beside the RIPPED-PLUM-IN-HALF, blood-sprayed-everywhere body of our rabbit friend were GIANT WING MARKS in the fresh snow.

So either a pterodactyl swept in and murdered him when he was just four steps away from his pine tree…

… or those dang owls did it.

Sometime in the wee hours of this morning, after I had been forced to listen to all the hoo-hoo-hooting for HOURS, I told Hubs, “Please!  Go outside… AND SHOOT THOSE OWLS DEAD!”

I woke Hubs up, which made me a little happy, seeing as how he’d gotten a weekend FULL of sleep.  He groggily tipped his head to the side at 4:00 this morning, listened for a bit, and said, “I love owls!”

And then he went right back to sleep.

So, y’all… seriously.

I’m off to put Thing 2 to bed RIGHT NOW, and then I’m going to bed myself.  My fingers are crossed tightly that there are no sleep-talkers, no Amber Alerts, and no vicious owls singing karaoke tonight.


… if y’all have a mind to talk to Jesus, please mention my dad tonight.  He’s having YET ANOTHER little surgery tomorrow morning, so that his doctor can look inside his bladder and see if there are any more suspicious growths going on in there.  We are just praying for a CLEAN BILL OF HEALTH on the man tomorrow!  No.  New.  Cancer spots.  And amen!

I’m also praying for a very silent night tonight.

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