Sleepless in Toronto

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If this post tails off into incomprehensible gibberish, please know that I’ve not had a stroke and I have not been into the liquor cabinet…yet.  I am operating on roughly 2 1/2 hours of sleep.  How I even logged onto the computer this morning, I’m not sure.

I seem to have problems staying put at night (through no fault of my own, mind you).  I am not a sleepwalker except on days like today when I think the term “zombie” might apply.  Last night went something like this:  admonished children to go to sleep several times around 10:30; chased nocturnal kitten out of bedroom several times – gave up on all of them, locking myself in my room around 11.  Continued reading truly awful James Clavell book because I had nothing else, until midnight.

Husband came crashing in (time unknown) after “office team outing.”  Said husband wakes me with bear hug and liquor-fumed kisses.  I growl and say “SHHHHHH” in harsh voice whereby he giggles, repeats “SHHHHHHH” loudly.  Repeats bear hug with mumbling.  I repeat “SHHHHHHH” – this decidedly un-witty repartee continues until he falls asleep.  I lie there, in wide-eyed disbelief, as he begins making a noise somewhere between snoring and a donkey braying.

I look at the clock:  2:30 a.m.  I look over at my beloved and wish him a happy hangover in the morning.  Getting up I notice nocturnal kitten is nowhere in sight and my daughter’s bedroom door is open.  This is not good.  I go to the bathroom and notice raccoons are partying noisily on our back deck – what is going on – is there a full moon?

Back to daughter’s room.  Nocturnal kitten likes to crawl into the box spring of her bed which concerns me because there are nasty springs and hazardous stuffings.  So, of course, I spend the next 30 min face down on my daughter’s dubious carpet trying to extricate stupid (but unbearably cute) nocturnal kitten without waking my daughter.  Mission accomplished.  It is 3 a.m.

Nocturnal kitten chases me down the hall to my room, batting at my feet.  I am fully awake now and the braying can be heard through the bedroom door.  I grab my pillow and head back to my son’s room.  He is also snoring/braying but he is not drunk; he has a head cold.  I think.  Anyway, I shove him over to where I have my minimum requirement of 12 inches of mattress and settle down with nocturnal kitten, in hopes of getting some sleep.  Nocturnal kitten (who’s nickname is Mad Alyss) has other ideas and begins pummelling my jaw with her hind feet, practicing her kickboxing.

I give up on sleep, deciding that playing with Mad Alyss is more fun whereby she decides to call it a night, leaves the crook of my arm and settles herself at my feet. Until dawn I lie, perched precariously on my 12 inch strip of mattress,wondering what it might be like to sleep through the night.  I am serenaded by snoring, braying, and a noise I cannot adequately describe coming from the raccoons outside the window.

Morning:  Mad Alyss has crashed on the sofa – utterly exhausted as usual by her night’s adventures.  Husband woke up looking slightly worse for wear and dodging nasty looks from me over breakfast.  Everyone was sent packing with all due haste.  And, here I sit, bleary-eyed and feeling as though I’d been run down by a truck; willing my brain to function on massive amounts of coffee.

I look out the kitchen window and damned if I don’t see a raccoon curled up on the roof of our garden shed, sleeping off his/her good time.  Jealous, I pour yet another cup of coffee.

 

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