Because I know when you read the title you were thanking me. Out loud.
Why do I always look so haggard in the mornings?
Why does Kev always look so fresh faced?
Why are our next door neighbors always running their electric table saw? I have a bad feeling that it is to cut up body parts. Or pieces of wood in to the shape of animals to put in their front yard.
I should probably learn to mind my own business.
But sometimes my business is no fun.
Anyway. Where were we?
Oh yes... I was finally going to answer your many questions of what I do in the middle of the night.
And it is NOT sleep.
Because I am ridiculous. At least that is what Kev tells me.
I try. Believe me. I try so hard. I go to bed around midnight. I get in my most comfortable position. I close my eyes and I fall asleep.
For about 30 minutes.
If I'm lucky.
And then my eyes fly open. My mind starts racing. And the couch calls my name.
I've tried breathing exercises. Tylenol PM. And.... well, I guess that is about it. Apparently, I give up to easily.
Kev has tried giving me pep talks about sleeping and how it is good for me, tucking me in so I'm comfortable, always keeping the sheets fresh and clean, and playing the harp.
Not really on the harp thing. But if he did.. it would be hella cool.
Sometimes, I go for days without sleeping. Sometimes a whole week.
One time Kev made a chart. To keep track of my sleeping. He said I would receive a star every time that I slept through the night.
Without wetting the bed.
Ok - not really wetting the bed. Even though I have asked him if it is ok. Because it sure would make my life easier to not have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.
Except for I am already awake. So it doesn't really matter.
But the star chart..... It stayed pretty empty. I received NO prize at the end of the week. And Kev gave up.
And now he is so used to my comings and goings in the middle of the night... that he usually doesn't even notice.
So, for your enjoyment, here is a peek in to a night at the Snyder's residence......
It is a plain old Sunday night. I have to be at work at 8am. I have to be up by 6:30am... at the latest.
It is 1:30am.
That means that it is actually Monday.
I put together a post for my blog.
I watch a little tv. TLC, Food Network, or Bravo.
I read the latest Paula Deen magazine.
I pull out my check book and write a couple of bills.
I think about all of the things that I need to do on my day off this week.
And then I think about how I will probably not get the majority of them done.
Because I would rather swim.
And then I look out the kitchen window on to the back patio....
And see FROGGLES!! or Toadstool. Or whatever the heck you want to call him.
He is looking at the pool with delight on his face. And probably hoping that the idiot girl who lives in the house does not come out with cardboard and try to rescue him when he doesn't want to be rescued.
He is so intense. Not moving a muscle. If frogs even have muscles to move. I don't really remember 9th grade science.
Or any science for that matter.
But I have to get a picture. At 3 am in the morning. It is a necessity. For me to be able to sleep.
So, I open the door to go outside. Hoping and praying that Kev doesn't wake up, hear the door open, assume I am a burglar, and tazer me. Even though he would probably enjoy tazering me as it would give me the opportunity to get some sleep. And would be payback for something annoying that I had done.
I creep out with my camera. I am barefoot. Pants-less. ( NOT pantie -less. I do have some dignity) And in a nightgown/t-shirt. ( It depends on how much I weigh as to what the item of clothing is).
And this is the picture that I take.....
Do you even see him? or her? Staring intently at the pool. Wishing the creep that is showing way too much skin would go away.
Froggles never moved. Not an inch. I took several pictures. All of them looking just like this. Pure photographic genius. I don't know why I ever thought I needed to take some photography classes.
I was so excited about my picture adventure. That I ran inside and texted Kev all the details. So, he could read about it first thing in the morning.
When I was driving to work. Half asleep. Chugging my mud tea. And practicing speaking intelligently with my "no sleep" slur.
I think I finally got in bed around 5 am or so. To take a little nap before my alarm went off.
Did I mention that Kev was sleeping like a baby the entire time. Or maybe more like Rip Van Winkle as babies tend to wake up all throughout the night.
Are you happy that now you know what I'm doing while you are sleeping? Or does it just freak you out?
It freaks me out. A lot.
But then so does most of the things that I do.
I would end this post here. And wrap it up with a closing statement. Except for the very next sleepless night (Monday) this is what I saw outside....
Froggles AGAIN! But this time he/she was staring right in to the kitchen. No more wishing to swim in the pool. Only wishing that the crazy lady will go away and never return. Hoping that giving the "stink eye" will scare her off once and for all.
Showing me who is boss.
I still went outside. Got pretty close and snapped this picture. And then I realized that maybe Froggles did think he was staring at the pool. But all of my flashes have blinded him and he has no idea where he is.
Then I told myself to get some sleep. And leave the wildlife community alone.
I am now wrapping this post up. It is 1am on Wednesday morning. Another sleepless night.
When I got home from work tonight (actually Tuesday night). Kev informed me that he found my check book in the pantry. The check book that I was using to write bills on Sunday night. The word that came to mind was "dementia". Because that is the only explanation for my bizarre behavior. That or "no sleep".
I wonder what else I have thrown in the pantry......