secondly, there are rooms in this house that are like the sahara desert. my bedroom is one. while my son sleeps like a penguin in an igloo in his room, i feel like i am camping on a windless night in a safety hatch.
but thirdly, this is the reason:
the dog. for some reason she has taken to sleeping in the sahara desert also. which would be fine did she not howl, scratch, sigh, and stretch her legs all night long, tapping the wall each time she does so.
in this picture, she is trapped inside the condo that two children made for her. it has a sunroof, which was removed so i could see "how happy" she was inside. and being boys, they left a small hole for her tail to come out and, brace yourself, so she could fart. when i looked down at her, i swear she looked at me as if to say, "i am a celebrity. get me out of here." but they had blocked all exits so there was really nothing i could do to help her.
i used to be able to sleep through thunderstorms. or carpet installation. or massive amounts of dorm noise during college. but now, if someone catches their breath on the other side of the house, my eyes shoot open. what kind of cosmic joke is this?
and i love to stay up late. i like to be the last man standing. i love the stillness. the quiet. it reminds me of being a teenager and savoring those few hours after my parents went to sleep (usually around 10:30) to read or watch tv or munch on some oreos.
but now the next day usually smacks me in the face. the day cannot stand that i do not want to wake up with the birds. the dog wants out. someone is always trying to tell me something that i cannot comprehend having been dead asleep two seconds before. my eye mask is now covering the lower portion of my face like i am a bandit. i feel like a dog trapped in a condo.
don't you people know who i am? i need five more minutes. i'm a celebrity. get me out of here.
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