Don't Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

If the blog still had playlist.com and Vanilla Ice hadn't personally crashed my computer, I would be playing The Beatles' song "I'm So Tired".  Just thinking about John Lennon singing that song is making me tired.  I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink, I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink. I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink, no no no....zzzzzzzz.

(She wakes up, wipes drool off of mouth.  She is a drooler and occasional mouth-breather.)

((Isn't it creepy when people refer to themselves in third person? She thinks so, too. Or it sounds like Silence of the Lambs..."It will take the lotion out of the bucket....it will put the lotion on...."))

Where were we?  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Last weekend was So Much Fun Best Time Ever.  Why?  Because we had nothing going on.  Nothing!  Other than dance pictures on Friday night and baseball on Sunday, we were able to lounge around when we wanted and stay in bed as late as we wanted and work on the house or basement or do other things we wanted.  It was loveliness squared.  All that sleeping in and blissful relaxation and non-adherence to any schedule really screwed up this week for me, because on Monday morning at 6:30 a.m. when the alarm went off I realized that I do indeed still have a full time job.

Sunday night was the beginning of the fatigue.  The dinner dishes were cleaned up.  Current Husband and I had tucked in children of tucking age and sent the teen to the Teen Lair and had enjoyed some deliciously cold white wine.  I was sitting down to write a blog post and then I heard a whining in the distance.  No.  It can't be.  Yes, it is.  It was the Tornado Siren, going off across the river.  A few minutes later, our siren started.  George the Superpet assumed his position in the middle of the house, pointed his poodle snout north and let loose with his dog wail of warning.  He sounds like an old man being strangled when he howls, so it really tends to amp up the stress level.  This made all of the children freak out a bit, and we sent them all to the basement with bottled water and copies of our will pinned to their shirts.

We found out about 10 minutes later that it was only a Thunderstorm Warning, and that they now sound the sirens for those as well, which I think is a complete and utter crock.  As a girl who was born and raised on the tornado plains of Nebraska, I will tell you that a lifetime of tornado sirens meaning there is an actual tornado on the ground and cows and silos flying through the air will send me to the basement by habit.  Finding out it's just a thunderstorm makes me feel like I've been duped.  So get your big girl pants on, National Weather Service.  Thunderstorms don't frighten me, tornadoes do.

At about 3 a.m. CH and I both jumped out of bed because of a crash in the house.  It turns out that George must have leaned up against the fireplace on his cushion, and caused the fireplace insert to fall out when he moved.  Hmmm.  Another thing that must have eluded inspection when we bought this house last fall.  Needless to say, George was up for the night, and kept jumping on our bed and pacing because he was still mid-stroke from the crash.

Last night I was all for getting into bed in my pj's and watching the basketball game, but The Son asked me to stay up and watch it with him, and he's so damn cute I can't deny him much, so together we yelled at Butler to quit trying so many 3-pointers and to work your way into the paint!  Try some 2-point shots!  But it wasn't meant to be.  We went out separate ways to bed, only to have Youngest Daughter get up with a bad dream in the middle of the night.  She comes in to spoon with me when these things happen, and she seems to fall right to sleep, while I absorb her kicks and thrashing around sticking her hair all up in my face.  I usually wake up about 45 minutes later with my neck frozen at a 45 degree angle from my shoulder and no covers, while YD sleeps soundly in my spot.

All day today I dreamt of going to bed.  I could feel the warm covers, my cushy pillows, the lovely darkness, my acid reflux.  But now that 11 p.m. draws near, I'm wide awake.  DANG.  If only tomorrow could be a snow day.

When that alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow?  Don't wake me up before you Go-Go.  I'm perfectly fine with being solo.