I had a very difficult time getting to sleep last night. I tried squooshing my pillow, poofing my pillow, sheet on, sheet off, right side, left side...I did everything but hit myself in the head with a wrench like Moe on The Three Stooges.
I dozed fitfully, waking up at least a thousand times to get a drink, to go to the bathroom, to get a drink, to go to the bathroom, etc. I looked out the bathroom window, I looked out my bedroom windows: nothing was going on. Not even a stray cat trying to get to the empty tuna cans in our neatly boxed trash, set out at the curb for the morning garbage pick up.
The alarm went off at 6:30 and I tried unsuccessfully to get my husband to scratch my back WITH HIS HANDS and not his dumb feet like he did last week, but he kept tickling me instead. So when he went to walk the dogs, I padded downstairs with my hair sticking up everywhere and had a peanut butter sandwich with a banana on it. As I was sitting there at the table, I honestly felt like my head was going to pitch forward onto my plate. Can you die by suffocation in a peanut butter sandwich?
"I didn't sleep well last night," I said to my husband as he came through the kitchen, making a sound of disgust when he saw my sandwich.
"I didn't either," he said. "I tossed and turned all night long. I couldn't get comfortable. And you snored."
"Snored?" I said indignantly. "How could I snore, I ask you, if I was hardly ever asleep?" I took a large bite of my sandwich.
"Breathing heavily, then," he said, grinning and grabbing a Power Bar from the basket on top of the microwave. "Ver-ree, ver-ree heavily."
"You thnore too," I said by way of rejoinder, my mouth full of peanut butter. "You thnore like a band thaw."
He went on into the foyer to turn the thermostat back up its normal two degrees to our daytime temperature. "Hey," he called. "I know why we couldn't sleep last night. I forgot to turn down the AC!"
Who would have ever thought that two little degrees could make such a difference?
I went back upstairs at nine o'clock and got in bed, thinking that I was now sleepy enough that I could drift off easily. Wimzie came up with me and made herself into a tidy bundle at the foot of the bed where the fan could blow her bangs out of her eyes. I fell asleep and was totally unconscious until I heard a tap-tap-tapping on the door.
"Whaa-?" I said thickly, regretting the peanut butter sandwich.
"It's us," said Meelyn, coming into the room. Aisling followed her, bouncing. "Are you ever going to get up? Because it's ten past eleven. Are we going to the pool? Are we going to get lunch? Do you want to scrapbook? What time do we have to be at the gym for open court tonight?"
"Stop! Stop!" I said, covering my head with my pillow. "Have mercy!"
"Didn't you sleep well last night, Mommy?" she asked as Aisling continued to bounce around the room, singing.
"No," I said, pulling the sheet up under my chin and closing my eyes firmly. "I had an awful night of sleep."
Aisling stopped singing and said, "So did I. I was too hot. I got up at three o'clock and went to the bathroom and took off my pajama pants."
"I was hot, too," said Meelyn. "I usually sleep with my sheet and my comforter on, but I kept throwing off my comforter, and then I'd get too cold and put it back on, and then I'd be too hot again."
"Did you squoosh your pillow and then poof your pillow?" I asked.
"Yup," she said.
"My pillows fell on the floor," offered Aisling.
"Well, Daddy forgot to turn down the air conditioning last night. That's why we were all so hot."
"Daddy is a bad, bad man," Aisling said thoughtfully.
"I don't know if I'd go that far," I said. "But he does tickle people. And he snores, too."
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