On Our Way To Crazy

I am just not meant to get a good night’s sleep this week. The last several nights have been full of things keeping me awake. My eyelids are drooping as I type this.

A couple of nights ago I woke up around 2am to the sound of Miles rummaging through my purse looking for food. He usually falls asleep at the end of the bed as soon as the sun goes down, so I’m not sure of the sequence of events. All I know is that he was sound asleep when I went to bed at midnight. He has been known to come upstairs with us when we go to bed, only to race back down when he thinks we’re not looking to look for snacks he thinks are down there – usually a glass with milk in the bottom left on the table or a pantry door that’s not closed all the way. Did he fake sleep with the intention of going after the purse when we were sleeping? Did he wake up, see the bag and get the munchies? I have no idea.

Earlier this week I woke up from a dream and couldn’t fall back asleep. In the dream, I’d been in a work meeting at a restaurant. During the meeting, someone stole my purse. When I realized it was gone I ran out into the parking lot to find my car gone. Somehow I knew the thieves had not only stolen my car but had gone to my house and taken my dog, my Kate Spade china and my white chocolate macadamia nut cookies I have to make special trip to Fresh Market to buy. Also known as my three most prized possessions. I didn’t have my phone to call Aaron, so I ran back into the restaurant to lodge a complaint with the manager. The guy at the hostess stand was really mean to me and said it was my own fault someone stole my bag. He was also Matt Dillon.

Tuesday night I couldn’t fall asleep because I was too worked up with grief and indignation over the Mavs. Tears may have been shed.

But I think the real contributor to my sleep issues is the sun. I think it is conspiring with my blinds and my alarm clock to drive me crazy every morning. Somehow the alignment of the sun and my blinds is such that, about 20 minutes before my alarm goes off, the sun peeks through the space between the blinds and the wall and blinds me. I’m awakened every morning by the BURNING OF MY CORNEAS.

If I could just get rid of the snack-happiness of my dog, and Matt Dillon, and the Heat, and the freaking sun, I’d be well-rested. And probably much more pleasant to be around.

(This blog title is just for you, mom.)