I was struck down with insomnia the other night. Or struck up, as it were, as I was not able to go down to sleep. I’d taken a short nap earlier in the day, but that usually doesn’t have much of an effect on my ability to sleep. It was just one of those nights when I couldn’t get comfortable and I was worried about all the work that didn’t quite get done over the weekend, and I was on pins and needles with my fingers crossed hoping for a snow day in my county that hadn’t been called yet.
And Alex was snoring.
Alex and I have this battle almost every night because he usually falls asleep before me. He will lay on his back and snore or, you know, breathe loudly, or, you know, breathe at all (I freely admit that I have a little case of the crazies when it comes to sound), and I poke him and say, “Roll over,” and he does and sometimes it works and sometimes I turn on my white noise machine and put a pillow over my head.
Then there are the nights that Alex is quietly on his side and then rolls over onto his back (A position in which he claims that I’ve been known to snore too, but I refuse to believe that because I am quite delicate. Ahem.) and I have the arduous task of getting a deeply sleeping Alex to roll over.
If I may digress (again), I have to say that getting a deeply sleeping Alex to do anything is difficult. This is the guy who slept through the house next door to us burning.
One time, when Sam was still a newborn and I was trying to wake Alex up to get a little help in the middle of the night, he extended his thumb and pinkie finger to make an imaginary phone, pretended that the reception was bad and then “hung up” on me.
(Yeah, I know. He’s that creative in the middle of the night, but he can’t roll the fuck over?!)
So, for instance, the other night when Alex rolled back over onto his back and I oh so kindly jabbed him with my pokey finger and asked him to roll over, his only response was something to the effect of, “jabba jabba wha hassy who.”
When I insisted that that he roll over, he began to get agitated and started protesting, “But I don’t have anything! I can’t roll it over! I don’t have anything! What do you want me to do?!”
And then it pretty much degenerated into a shoving match and near fist fight. I totally won, but I’m not proud of myself.
Getting back on topic (did I have a topic?)…
So the other night when I couldn’t sleep and Alex insisted on BREATHING (is your husband that goddamn insensitive too?), I departed and went downstairs to the couch. I was awake when my school district called a snow day, which, thank GOD, because by this time it was 4:30 a.m. and if I had to get up and take my kids to school and function all day, things were going to go poorly.
I finally got to sleep at around 5:30 a.m. Weird. For someone who can fall asleep at almost any second, I don’t know why that happened to me. Seriously, I could close my eyes right now and my head would thunk right down on my laptop. I think I must be stressed maybe.
I don’t really know where I was going with this post. But I’ve written it because (1) I haven’t written anything else, and this is a BLOG, and you’re supposed to UPDATE said BLOG occasionally, (2) I’m pissed that I couldn’t fall asleep the other night, (3) I figure if I keep mentioning that I’m really, really tired that someone will take pity on me and give me the magical cure (the non-crystal meth cure), and (4) can you believe the nerve of my husband to breathe in our shared marital bed? What kind of selfish asshole tries to lie on his back in his own bed?
Seriously, we’re a fist fight away from separate bedrooms. Or a blog post away from a divorce. (Don’t leave me, ‘kay, sweetie?)