The things we do to save our children's (and our own) sleep!
Last night, Joah had to be in Reno for work, so I had the whole bed to myself! Except that when Joah's not home, every single tiny noise wakes me up. So at 6:30 AM, after a less than perfect night of sleep, I am wrenched awake by the terrible, growling yowls of two cats at odds with each other. I irrationally think,
Oh no! They're going to wake up Jack! so I rip off the sleep mask I inevitably don at about 5:30 every morning and storm outside, stopping to carefully close the screen door, lest it slam and wake up Jack. (You can see how much I cherish every moment of my sleep--Jack's sleep=my sleep!) I march around the outside of the house in my jammies, and eventually find the white cat that lives under my back deck, crouching alone between the rose bushes. "You get out of here!" I hiss at it, and stomp my bare feet on the cool cement. (Fat load of good the silent stomping did.) But it did slink away from me, along the front of the house, into a bush under Jack's window.
Great! Go closer so you can be louder! As I follow the white cat to shoo it further away, I tramp through the wet grass and spot, just around the corner in the dirt on the side of the house, the ORANGE CAT --the new kid in town who is quite a bully, from what I've seen. I am bracing myself for another fight--the two cats are so close together--and I want to chase away the orange cat, but I don't want to step on to the dirt with my wet feet and make mud, which will have to be cleaned off before climbing back into bed... if I ever get there again. Are there rocks to throw at it? No rocks to be found. Still clutching my sleep mask, I pick up a handful of the next best thing: wet tanbark. I start chucking the tanbark at the orange cat, not even coming near it with my throws, but (miraculously) it takes a step or two back. I grab another handful of tanbark, and lose all inhibitions. I step in the dirt, muddying my feet, and chase that cat away, all the time whisper-yelling "You get out of here! Get! Go on!" What a sight I must have been in my pajamas, clutching my sleep mask, throwing wet tanbark with all my might and whisper-yelling threats at that orange cat! By the time I wiped my muddy feet on the wet grass and found my way back into bed, I wasn't sleepy any more. Of course. So in order to save Jack's sleep, and thereby my own sleep, I got out of bed, chased a cat across the yard, and lost my last few minutes of morning slumber. Ironic, isn't it?