Yawn... It's 6 am. Moments ago my darling husband stumbled past my desk, arms reaching the ceiling in an enormous yawn (he IS 6'4") and sarcastically stated,
"Aaahhh.... Slept great! TWICE."
Har Har Har.
As if it is MY fault that he put on "A Beautiful Mind" before he passed out, leaving it on to wake me up at 2 am to scenes of Russell Crowe's schizophrenically engineered hallucinations? As if it is MY fault that he is married to a brilliant woman with an overly active imagination who takes that suggestion of hallucinated people and morphs them into psychos who like to walk in circles in your family room?
I'll tell you what really sucks; It really sucks to be scared out of your wits at 2 am by what you are positive is an intruder going through the bag of cat food*. It's even better when you have to rouse the world's deepest sleeper for an EMERGENCY. Ever try to do that? Ever try to wake the dead in a hurry? And do it quietly?
Me, poking him incessantly in the ribcage, "Pat. Paaattt!!!"
Pat "...zzzzzarggglesnarfzzzzzzzz...."
Poke, poke, POKE! Anxiously peering into the hallway, after noticing that I can't easily grab my freaking ninja sword**.
"WAKE UP! But shhhhh!!!"
Pat "....zzzzvap?zzzzzhuh?"
Rinse and repeat. AND REPEAT. Until finally,
"WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING? WHAT? HUH? WHAT'S WRONG? WHAT'S DOWNSTAIRS? WHY ARE YOU HITTING ME? WHY DO I NEED TO BE QUIET?!?"
Good Lord.
This would all have been much more amusing had I not been absolutely shaking with fear.
At this point, I was positive that the psycho was smart enough to hide around the corner of the stair case, just out of sight from the top and there was no way I was going down by myself! So, while I silently jumped from foot to foot, wringing my hands (true story. My hands were actually wrung last night), he slooooooowly slipped on a pair of shorts so as to be decent for the paramedics in case he was murdered.
I shit you not.
After heroically pushing each other in front of ourselves, we crept down the creaky stairs and saw... Nothing. Thankfully, there wasn't an intruder or even a hallucination. Just our aging cats pattering around, rummaging in food bags and knocking glasses over. Once we secured the premises and were trudging back upstairs, Patrick shot me a sleepy dirty look that said "you got me out of bed for THAT?"
I guess he would have preferred that there actually WAS an intruder. I mean, he went to the trouble of putting his pants on for NOTHING!
*yes, this should have been my first clue that it was a CAT and not a HUMAN but it was 2 AM FOLKS.
**Yes. I have a Ninja sword. It's under my dresser by my bed but I couldn't find it because I would have had to move the stuff I put in front of it to stop the kids from playing with it. I didn't want to move the stuff because that would have made too much noise and given the crazy person *** an even greater upper hand. Maybe not the best spot to store it after all? It's ok, though; I grabbed a plastic hanger instead. Just as good, really.
*** the other one. Not myself.
Love you honey!
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5 comments:
Haha!
I'd have been freaked out too. If I hear a noise in the dead of night, I'm sure that someone is breaking in.
No one thinks clearly at 2 am. Glad everything was ok.
Two thoughts leap to mind.
1- The middle of the night sounds are part of why Rich was OK with me getting a dog. He says it's nice to have someone to send into the dark basement guest room first. I have my doubts about Wilson as a guard dog. Look honey! A stranger must be there- he's wagging his tail!!
2- In one of the few earthquakes we had while living outside of Lake Placid, Rich was totally mad at me because I stopped to put on shorts before fleeing the house. My theory was Adirondack earthquakes aren't the same as northern CA. There was time to cover up and not flash my small neighborhood.
Glad it was just the cats!
LOL!!
I have nights like that, except the paranoia occurs before I even go to bed and remains throughout the night. I can't pass a window without being SURE someone is looking in at me. Doors make me nervous. The mere thought of going outside is heart attack worthy. 8-/
I'm gad it was just the cats, and I totally understand Pat's need to put on pants. It's the same reason you're supposed to change your underwear every day, right?
a few things here...
pat is like any other good man. he doesn't wanna get caught w/ his pants down, or, in this case, w/ his pants off.
i thought the * business was cute. but i missed one. where's the ** in the text?
thanks for the wonderful you comment you left on my page yesterday re: snoop dogg is in the miz-osque. your comment on hatred pretty much nailed it.
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