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Is it my age? Now, I'm mentally handing out demerits to the perpetrators of the crime throughout the remains of the day/s. Last night was a Triple Whamee in the precious sleep department. (And that's WITHOUT factoring in being engrossed in a good book at bed time.) The baby woke up screaming at 2 something, was brought downstairs by the King, and remained in our bed until 5:15, which meant I couldn't lay straight or really sleep deeply at all for fear of smushing him or getting the pillow over him. I put him back in his crib when I did beause the King's alarm went off -- some 3 times (need to disassemble that snooze button) -- because he needed to catch a flight. Couldn't sleep until he got out of the house, an hour or so later. Then there was the dog. She's still sleeping in the laundry room and I didn't want to risk an accident, so in spite of the fact that my body was screaming "no, no, for the love of Pete, no!" I got up early to take her for a walk. And did any of these thieves say "Sorry I robbed you of your beauty sleep?" or "Can I make you a pot of coffee?" So, in addition to feeling very sorry for myself, I'm blurry-eyed and grumpy and plan to drink a WHOLE pot of the coffee [that I made for myself]. Wonder if having a Bionic Coffee Machine and a frother like Anotherblogonthefire would make a difference? If nothing else, the organic half-and-half I bought after reading about nasty milk additives at Sixredheads should perk(!) me right up. |
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