I was calm, bored, and mellow enough to try to read myself to sleep. I roused the mister off the couch, where he was snoozing, and apparently something pissed on his parade, between the living room, and the bedroom, because as I was done shutting down all the lights, and getting ready for bed, he was there waiting awake, ready to give me a ration of shit. About how nothing's getting done this week, how I'm going to bed so late (yes, he thinks I do it on purpose. I just fucking LOVE going to bed at 1, and tossing and turning till FIVE), etc etc. The same rote shit. He's got this fabulous habit of going off like a bottle rocket, biweekly, about random crap. Generally he picks the WORST possible time, too. Like, just before going out to dinner with my family, so I go out with a tearstained face, or early on a Sunday morning, so all of Sunday is shot...or like tonight, just as I'm ready to crawl into bed.
So, after he said (snarked) his peace, he rolled over and went to sleep. I was all wound up, so I snuggled with Pookie, and tried to read my brain into submission. I was starting to get all snoozy again when I heard this crash. Then the crickets in the living room stopped cricketing. Shit. The cat. Sho'nuff, the cat knocked over the critter keeper, spilling out about 5 of the remaining 11 crix. I moved the survivors into my room, where they would be safe. Where they thank me by chirping loudly. All night. *CRICKET* *CRICKETCRICKETCRICKET* Oh the joys of keeping crickets again.
So, I'm laying there WIDE awake, with Pookie snoring contentedly into my armpit, the mister as far away as he can possibly get, on the bed, while still being on the bed, and the crickets serenading me into insanity. I tried to snuggle close to him, and he made this snuffing huffy sound, and drew even further away. So with a hearty "fuck you" I left the room.
Yeah, I got up. Now I'm babbling away at this thing, trying to mellow out again, and bore myself to sleep.
We wound up naming the tarantula Priscilla (Queen of the Desert!) So fitting. She's female, but we're not too sure. She's a desert species. She's fluffy, and this wicked shade of the girliest pink imaginable. Her carapace is irridescent, pink, even. Can you tell? I'm completely enamoured with her. (not her food, though. Crickets take some getting used to, the chirpy little bastard escapees)
I wish I could sleep. Tomorrow, I have a fuckload of stuff to do. Ordering my countertops at 2, maybe hanging out with Chimele, about 400 phone calls, grocery shopping, checking my mom's mail, and watering her jungl- I mean garden (they went to the nudist camp for Labor Day weekend) etc etc. I want to get up early tomorrow, and not sleep the morning away, but after a night like tonight, I can pretty much kiss that off. Or, get up early, and suffer through most of the day. Which is more likely.
Maybe I should look into some sort of sleep meds.
Maybe I should sew my eyelids shut.
Maybe I should just go sleep on the couch, next time he starts his tantrumy bullshit.
[Listening to: Hell Is Living Without You - Alice Cooper - (4:11)]
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