It's nearly midnight here but sleep, I know, is still hours away. The Man humored me when I crawled back into bed this morning after I woke him up at 10:00AM. Humored me a little too much, I say, as I didn't wake back up until 2:00.
A four hour nap.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" I groaned. "Now I don't have time to get anything done and I'll never sleep tonight!"
To his credit he refrained from calling me an ingrate.
But why is it that while sleep is so elusive to me at night I can, with no effort, sleep four uninterrupted hours in the middle of the day? I've always been this way. Which worked perfectly well when I was 19 and waiting tables for a living, but considerably less so for my current situation which includes an 8:20AM t-ball gave every Saturday morning.
Well, I am off to kanoodle with the husband. We just finished watching this movie which was so depressing I nearly couldn't finish it. I have never been able to get into watching fictional lives self-destruct on screen for my personal enjoyment. Isn't there enough self-destructing going on in the real world? Is a happy ending with all the loose ends tied up with a bow too much to ask for a Friday night? Ah well, The Man like it. He's much more tolerant of dark and gritty than I.
Tomorrow I will be writing a post at worst mama about how my toddler left a trail of urine all over Lowes Hardware store tonight. I am sure you can't wait.
The glamour of my life is overwhelming.