SweetWitch
Green Goddess
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2005
- Posts
- 20,370
I was supposed to be working. Sometimes I’m not as disciplined as I’d like, so I find myself playing instead of writing. I tell myself it’s not my fault. Let’s face it; there are a lot of silly things to do on the internet. Last night’s distraction was in the form of Mafia Wars on Facebook—that evil, evil game. I blame Joey Walnuts. It’s his fault. He got me hooked on it.
So, instead of working, I was playing. I’m sure my publisher will be pleased to know that I didn’t get any editing done. Sigh. I was only going to do it for a few minutes, but when the clock on the mantle hit twelve bells, I realized that I’d been at it for two hours.
Ouch.
Like most of my sisters and brothers in the indy authors’ world, I have a day job. I had to finish up the laundry, set out tomorrow’s clothes for the little one and get something out of the freezer for the next day’s supper before I could hit the rack. The cat still hadn’t been fed. Poor kitty. The living room was still a mess.
With my chores finally finished, it was quickly approaching 1:00 AM before I climbed between the sheets. Morning was going to hit hard. Little did I know just how hard…
When I entered the bedroom, Sir Snores-Alot was doing his best impression of a STIHL chainsaw. For a moment I pondered going to the guest room for a decent amount of sleep, then I realized I’d have to move and reset my alarm clock, put sheets on the bed and make it livable. That’s what I get for using the room as a storage bin. With a roll of my eyes, I climbed in bed and hoped for the best.
With a pillow wrapped tightly about my head, sleep came fast. Too bad it didn’t last. It seems I had just dropped off when the eight-year-old princess of the house came looking for her mama. Her little eyes, filled with sleep and tears told the story. Growing pains in her legs were causing her too much discomfort. After a dose of “leg medimets” she was sent off to bed with a drink and a hug. It was 1:43.
Damn.
With a less-than-cordial nudge to the sleeping snore machine to get him to roll over, I was quickly settled again. The snoring had blessedly ceased, but as I dozed off, his cell phone started to beep. Being too tired to deal with it, I curled the pillow around my head again and drifted off.
Now, my husband is like so many others. If something disturbs his sleep, he wakes me to find out what it is. What the hell is that all about? I would certainly welcome any answers on this particular inclination. I remember my dad doing that to my mom, too. Why do men do this?
So, he nudged me and asked, “What’s that noise?”
After glancing at the clock and seeing 2:08 emblazoned in bright, red numbers, I jabbed him with my elbow. Hard. “It’s your damned phone. Jeez. Let me sleep.”
So the king of the house arose, fumbled, knocked stuff over, went into his bathroom and slammed the door. His actions were punctuated with a round of curses from his loving wife who used rather flowery language in a description of his ancestry. He was not amused.
Finally, sleep claimed me. I mean, I was out cold—until His Highness came back. He has a particular talent for flopping on the bed. His very large frame hits the mattress like a ton of marbles—rolling, loud and violent. It’s the reason I made him give up the waterbed in the early 90’s. When a tidal wave slams you to the floor in a dead sleep often enough, you make other arrangements.
It was 2:39. Another wave of vicious curses.
Sleep. Blessed sleep.
My eyes opened again at 3:17. What the hell was that noise? It was too loud to be a mouse, but something was definitely chewing. Then it dawned on me and I gave the freight train next to me a sadistic bash with my pillow. He came upright with a bellow and swinging arms.
Smirking to myself, I got out of bed and approached his lounge area on the far end of the room. Sure enough, the cat was digging through his garbage can. His Royal Hiney eats his snacks while watching TV and stuffs the scraps in the can. The cat was on the prowl and unhappy with the lean diet of kitty kibble I keep him on. How many times have I told the man not to do that? Christ!
The cat was sent scampering and the trash was taken to the garage. I just want some f$%#ing sleep and I will have it! Declaring my intentions loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, I tossed myself back on the bed and muttered stern warnings to the next fool who disturbed my rest.
Himself got up at his usual time. I know this because he felt it was necessary to wake me and inform me that he goes into work earlier now so that he gets home earlier. Like I give a crap. What is this man thinking?
Without opening my eyes, and in a quiet voice, I informed him there was a gun within reach of my little hand, and I would use the protruding parts of his body for target practice. There was a sudden hush in the room and sleep reclaimed me. My last thought was the particular joy I would have with that gun. It’s a dart gun. I would have poked his privates full of holes and enjoyed his screams.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m a real delight when I don’t get enough sleep—some would even call me sadistic. Just ask the man that sleeps next to me at night, or the people I work with.
The alarm went off. The sun was rising. The world was coming awake and I wanted a nuclear weapon to salve my ugly temper. With any luck, the cube farm would catch fire and I would get the day off. As it was, I had to pry my swollen eyes open to splash water in them. The cat attacked me as I made my way from the shower. Stupid cat. Thankfully, the princess prudently decided to get herself up and dressed with no prodding from mom.
Dressed all in black to fit my mood, I shoved the kid out the door at the bus. Before she went, she asked if I was happy that she had gotten herself ready without an argument. I smiled, kissed her little head and said, “Yes, baby. Good thing, too, because Mommy might have taken you apart today.”
Her eyes got big as silver dollars as she backed out the door. She’s rarely seen that look on my face, but she fears it, just like I did when I saw it on my mom. I carried that look into the cube farm and got the day started. People around me cast me wary glances as they took up a collection of chocolate to appease me.
Chocolate fixes everything but this. I’m tired, I’m cranky and I hate my cat. I swear the creature is out to get me. If sleep proves to be elusive tonight, heads will roll.
So, instead of working, I was playing. I’m sure my publisher will be pleased to know that I didn’t get any editing done. Sigh. I was only going to do it for a few minutes, but when the clock on the mantle hit twelve bells, I realized that I’d been at it for two hours.
Ouch.
Like most of my sisters and brothers in the indy authors’ world, I have a day job. I had to finish up the laundry, set out tomorrow’s clothes for the little one and get something out of the freezer for the next day’s supper before I could hit the rack. The cat still hadn’t been fed. Poor kitty. The living room was still a mess.
With my chores finally finished, it was quickly approaching 1:00 AM before I climbed between the sheets. Morning was going to hit hard. Little did I know just how hard…
When I entered the bedroom, Sir Snores-Alot was doing his best impression of a STIHL chainsaw. For a moment I pondered going to the guest room for a decent amount of sleep, then I realized I’d have to move and reset my alarm clock, put sheets on the bed and make it livable. That’s what I get for using the room as a storage bin. With a roll of my eyes, I climbed in bed and hoped for the best.
With a pillow wrapped tightly about my head, sleep came fast. Too bad it didn’t last. It seems I had just dropped off when the eight-year-old princess of the house came looking for her mama. Her little eyes, filled with sleep and tears told the story. Growing pains in her legs were causing her too much discomfort. After a dose of “leg medimets” she was sent off to bed with a drink and a hug. It was 1:43.
Damn.
With a less-than-cordial nudge to the sleeping snore machine to get him to roll over, I was quickly settled again. The snoring had blessedly ceased, but as I dozed off, his cell phone started to beep. Being too tired to deal with it, I curled the pillow around my head again and drifted off.
Now, my husband is like so many others. If something disturbs his sleep, he wakes me to find out what it is. What the hell is that all about? I would certainly welcome any answers on this particular inclination. I remember my dad doing that to my mom, too. Why do men do this?
So, he nudged me and asked, “What’s that noise?”
After glancing at the clock and seeing 2:08 emblazoned in bright, red numbers, I jabbed him with my elbow. Hard. “It’s your damned phone. Jeez. Let me sleep.”
So the king of the house arose, fumbled, knocked stuff over, went into his bathroom and slammed the door. His actions were punctuated with a round of curses from his loving wife who used rather flowery language in a description of his ancestry. He was not amused.
Finally, sleep claimed me. I mean, I was out cold—until His Highness came back. He has a particular talent for flopping on the bed. His very large frame hits the mattress like a ton of marbles—rolling, loud and violent. It’s the reason I made him give up the waterbed in the early 90’s. When a tidal wave slams you to the floor in a dead sleep often enough, you make other arrangements.
It was 2:39. Another wave of vicious curses.
Sleep. Blessed sleep.
My eyes opened again at 3:17. What the hell was that noise? It was too loud to be a mouse, but something was definitely chewing. Then it dawned on me and I gave the freight train next to me a sadistic bash with my pillow. He came upright with a bellow and swinging arms.
Smirking to myself, I got out of bed and approached his lounge area on the far end of the room. Sure enough, the cat was digging through his garbage can. His Royal Hiney eats his snacks while watching TV and stuffs the scraps in the can. The cat was on the prowl and unhappy with the lean diet of kitty kibble I keep him on. How many times have I told the man not to do that? Christ!
The cat was sent scampering and the trash was taken to the garage. I just want some f$%#ing sleep and I will have it! Declaring my intentions loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, I tossed myself back on the bed and muttered stern warnings to the next fool who disturbed my rest.
Himself got up at his usual time. I know this because he felt it was necessary to wake me and inform me that he goes into work earlier now so that he gets home earlier. Like I give a crap. What is this man thinking?
Without opening my eyes, and in a quiet voice, I informed him there was a gun within reach of my little hand, and I would use the protruding parts of his body for target practice. There was a sudden hush in the room and sleep reclaimed me. My last thought was the particular joy I would have with that gun. It’s a dart gun. I would have poked his privates full of holes and enjoyed his screams.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m a real delight when I don’t get enough sleep—some would even call me sadistic. Just ask the man that sleeps next to me at night, or the people I work with.
The alarm went off. The sun was rising. The world was coming awake and I wanted a nuclear weapon to salve my ugly temper. With any luck, the cube farm would catch fire and I would get the day off. As it was, I had to pry my swollen eyes open to splash water in them. The cat attacked me as I made my way from the shower. Stupid cat. Thankfully, the princess prudently decided to get herself up and dressed with no prodding from mom.
Dressed all in black to fit my mood, I shoved the kid out the door at the bus. Before she went, she asked if I was happy that she had gotten herself ready without an argument. I smiled, kissed her little head and said, “Yes, baby. Good thing, too, because Mommy might have taken you apart today.”
Her eyes got big as silver dollars as she backed out the door. She’s rarely seen that look on my face, but she fears it, just like I did when I saw it on my mom. I carried that look into the cube farm and got the day started. People around me cast me wary glances as they took up a collection of chocolate to appease me.
Chocolate fixes everything but this. I’m tired, I’m cranky and I hate my cat. I swear the creature is out to get me. If sleep proves to be elusive tonight, heads will roll.
