2:37 a.m.
Wake up. Nose is runny. Throat is dry. Get up to blow my nose and contemplate popping a Benadryl, but decide that’s a bad idea considering I probably wouldn’t be able to get up in the morning for work. Fix myself a glass of water in the kitchen and walk by the bathroom where the toilet calls to me. Go pee. Wash hands quietly. Think about the dirty dishes in the kitchen. Decide I’d better ignore them.
2:43 a.m.
Crawl back in bed with the hubby who was smart enough to take Benadryl before bed and is sleeping like a baby. He is seriously sawing timber and doing that “poof poof” man breathing thing. I nudge him and loud whisper, “Baby please roll over…” He rolls over and I try to relax. He’s still doing the man breathing thing and Jack, who is asleep on his dog bed on the floor, starts to groom himself. I can’t handle much more of that because I am now irritated that I am wide awake and everyone else in the house is asleep so I grab my pillow and go get in bed with Miss C.
Sometime after 3 a.m.
Walk in Miss C’s bedroom only to find that for the first time since she moved into her full-size bed five years ago that she is sleeping horizontal in the exact middle of the bed. I manage to curl up in the bed and she plants her hot little feet on the back of my calves.
Sometime later, who knows what the heck time it is now?
I’m about to doze off and Bailey’s nails come clickety clacking down the hall and she noses the door open. I pray fervently that she doesn’t start barking and I stick my hand out to her from under the quilt. She sniffs my hand and then runs back out. I guess she picked up on my “Dog, I will kill you if you make me get up” vibe.
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