A Little Bit of Sleep Would Be Nice...

I can't think of anything to say. My brain has taken a medical leave of absence due to exhaustion. If I had my druthers, I'd get up in the morning to eat, take a nap, eat lunch, take a nap, eat dinner, and sleep all night long.  Unfortunately more times than not, I'm awake at three and spend the next four hours struggling for more shut eye. I have no idea why I can't sleep, I just can't. I used to be able to nap. Can't do that either. For some reason, sleep is elusive.

And it's only on work days which is really a bummer. I think the clock in my brain is confused. It thinks I need to get up at three which gives me a full four hours to get ready for work. Perhaps my brain is concerned about having a bad hair day. 

It must be noted that I generally fall asleep by nine. I have to wear earplugs and a mask because my husband is up until two watching old movies. We actually spend only one hour a night asleep next to each other.

This past weekend we traveled to Tahoe and stayed at the Horizon. By the time we finished dinner and a little penny poker it was around eleven. I opened the door to our room and let out a yelp of horror. The thermostat read eighty-seven degrees. Without thinking I was on the phone to the front desk. 

"I'm sorry ma'am. We are out of fans." 

"We know there is a problem with the heater. The maintenance men are working on it." 

After hanging up, I stood in the hallway waving the door to our room back and forth, trying to get a little air circulation going. To make a long miserable night short, we slept in the buff with wet towels wrapped around us to try and keep cool.   

The next day, upon arriving home, I noticed that my little basket where I keep my mask and earplugs was on the bed. I didn't think much of it at the time as I was unpacking our clothes, so I gathered up my trinkets, stuck them into the basket, and put it back on my nightstand, all the while my dog, Gus, kept staring at me out of bleary eyes.                            

Gus suffers from separation anxiety. When we leave he will generally figure out a way to get to the cookies in the pantry. As he's a terrier, he'll jump up and down until he grabs a box with his teeth, sending it to the floor where he and  Chelsea overdose on sugar. This time, I had moved the cookies and although the  pantry door was open, there were no snacks for Gus or Chelsea. 

Later that evening, I crawled into bed to watch a little TV until my eyes grew tired. Around nine I reached over to grab my mask and earplugs, and to my dismay, found my mask chewed and my earplugs missing. Not one set, or two sets, but all the sets. About twenty-five squishy earplugs were gone.    I looked at Gus who was sleeping next to my feet and screamed, "You did, didn't you!"  

And he had. The bits of purple that kept me from being awake all night long were gone. The following morning, I checked to see if Gus had a problem passing my earplugs. He didn't and my husband bought me a whole new set that I now keep in the drawer where Gus can't get them.  

People tell me that dogs are not vengeful but I have my doubts. I may not have slept well the night before, but Gus didn't either.