Monday, March 30, 2009

Wild Animals In My Bedroom

My husband went to bed late last night, or I should say this morning. Something like three thirty a.m. It's not unusual for him to go to bed after 1 in the morning but 3:30 is pushing it.

He and two buddies were in our little recording studio working on some music from about four, Sunday afternoon to 3:30 Monday morning. They're a perty good team, the three of them. One of them is a great lyricist, the other an outstanding arranger and then there's my husband....and if you'll excuse my bragging...he's good at everything (yes, I'm still on the subject of music).

They've been working on this project for quite a few months now and were smart enough to challenge themselves by coming up with a date for completion. I admire the fact that they've stuck to the project completion date and meet on a weekly basis while still working their day jobs. Personally, I'm not a great fan of the style of music they're working on but I do admit, "some" of it's catchy. I've even found myself singing some of the songs.

I went to bed at about 1:30 last night/this morning. I'd busied myself doing some stuff on the computer when I notice how late it was. Went out to the studio, controlled myself from putting my 2 cents in where it wasn't needed, and then said good night.

My head hit the pillow...take that back...I placed my head on the pillow (why would I hit it?) and knocked out within seconds. I was gaaawne. Then I woke to Carlos coming in, sliding the bathroom door open as if it was 3:30 in the afternoon (after all, he's awake, why shouldn't everyone else be!), brushing his teeth, tried to have some kind of conversation with me (can't remember what he said because it sounded something like "oud,nE ah.mX-84 20nNBpou9afd"). He still doesn't get it that I can't have a full conversation in the middle of sleep. I have to add that I love when he gives me some important piece of information at that hour and then actually thinks I'm gonna remember what he said the next day.

Anyway, as if he hasn't made enough noise, he puts a movie on. Seriously, what kind of nut am I married to?? What kind of human insists on torturing himself by denying himself the right to sleep. I've tried to explain to him that the human body can go without food and/or water but sleep is of the utmost importance. He shuts me out just like a 13 year old when you try to tell them to clean their room.

Finally, he reaches the point of exhaustion and falls into a deep sleep. How wonderful for him! I'm now awake thinking of cruel and unusual ways to torture him. I'm thinking of paying our daughter Karina to get up and play Dixie on her flute while marching on the bed or better yet turning the fan on full blast and pulling the blankets down. I've also considered pouring warm water on him to make him think he's wet the bed so that he'd have to get up and shower. Of course I wouldn't do any of these things but it some how comforts me knowing that all of these things are possible. I could actually do them.

And just when I'm about to lull myself back to sleep, due to my nasty thoughts of torture, he does IT. You know what IT is, don't you? Aha. He starts the snoring. Not just a little puff or whistle, not just the usual sawing wood. No, this guy goes straight to the jungle. He's a mad dog, a wild boar, a male Elephant in heat, the king of the jungle for goodness sake. He's like a demon possessed Hyena circling his prey. "Lord", I cry out in fear for my life, but the Lord himself has run. He can't take it either.

I'm alone.

There are wild animals in my bedroom and I'm alone.

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