If I was able to sleep, I’d be able to invent a more interesting title. As it stands, I’ve had two successive nights of minimal snooze. Sunday night’s failure was the result of stressing about Mr. Aggie and his amazing procrastination skillz. He stayed up all night (literally) writing a paper, and I woke up every hour or so wondering when he would finally come to bed.
Then last night, my beloved spouse snored, snorted, groaned, flopped, and any other verb you can think of that would disrupt one’s sleep-ed. Lenny also conspired to ruin my night by turning himself sideways (ouch!) and staying that way until I got up. I think he might have flipped and may now be breech, but since I can’t see him I’m not sure.
So here I sit, sipping peppermint tea, listening to Kenny G Christmas carols while the kids read silently, hoping I can make it through the day without killing someone. It’s not looking good.
Oh, and if one more person tells me to “get used to it” or “imagine how it will be when the baby gets here!” I will throat punch them.