I think I got eleven minutes of sleep last night. Don't expect this blog to be coherent. Hell, don't even expect me to finish it. At any moment, this text could disintegrate into a line of bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb when my forehead hits the keyboard. You have been disclaimered.
I don't know what's going on, but lately I've turned into the twitchiest would-be sleeper this side of an eleven-year-old staying home alone for the first time on Halloween after an 8-hour Freddie Kruegerathon and a dinner of Ho Hos. Every wee weird noise has me flipping over to turn on the light. This is bad for a couple of reasons: first, I have two cats and therefore quite a few weird noises on any given night, and two, the light on my bedside table has a short in its wiring and is likely to suddenly, heart-stoppingly turn itself off. Which it did twice last night.
The worst, though, is hearing some odd little noise in the house, assuming it was a cat, getting up to check and finding both cats sound asleep on their respective couches, miles from whence the strange sound cometh. I hate that. What's the point of having cats if you can't blame spooky night noises on them? (and yes, Aa., there are plenty of other reasons, so shaddup)
I've lived alone a lot of my adult life, and while I do have an overactive imagination at the best of times, I've mostly been able to stifle it when I need to sleep. I don't watch scary movies unless Toasty's going to be around for awhile, and scary books go in the freezer to stop them oozing out their bad characters like ectoplasm. But it's like I've suddenly regressed into the eight-year-old me who would wake up in the middle of the night, parents and brothers mere feet away, and be certain if I rolled over, a face would be at the side of my bed, looking back at me. (did I mention that overactive imagination?) I used to call for my dad and ask him something banal like what time it was (crucial information for an 8-year-old at 3 in the morning). My dad has always been a light sleeper and could be counted on for comfort, even if it was just to hear a familiar voice say, "It's 3.30. Go back to sleep." Instead of the expected, "It's time for you to die, little girl! hahahahhaahahaha!"
I'm off in a moment to take my asthmatic cat to the vet. I wonder what her inhaler will look like?
Sorry -- bit of a tangent there. Anyway, if you get a phone call at 3.30 in the morning, and a tremulous but rather familiar voice on the other end asks what time it is, just tell me it's OK, there's no such thing as the bogeyman, and that noise I just heard came from one of the cats, don't bother to go check.
Meanwhile, I'm going to buy a new lamp today. Possibly some earplugs.
6 comments:
No, she doesn't put scary books in the freezer. She puts them in a drawer in the living room end table, where their scariness can be contained.
Yeah, I know.
Kitties are sneaky. They can run around the house, jump on the fridge, spill papers all over the floor, knock over the picture frames, but then somehow slip right back onto the couch and pretend they had nothing to do with the recent mess.
One night, while my husband was away, and I was considering calling it a night...
...a lamp switcheed on in the livingroom downstairs. I heard it click and saw the light in an otherwise darkened room. My daughter is in bed, and the cat is beside me (and she never did get the hang of turning on lamps anyway).
I knew I had to be brave--I had to protect my daughter (otherwise, I'd have been out of there so fast!) I had to venture downstairs. So I did.
And there was nothing but the lamp. And the lamp wasn't on a timer, nor had it been turned on for several weeks. Of course, the culprit might be hiding. I ran to the phone, called a neighbour and asked him to bring himself and his dog over. They checked the house, but there was no sign of...anyone.
I sadly allowed him to go home, got in my pjs, and lay in bed with the phone in my hand until I finally drifted off at 3:30 in the morning.
I was kind of freaked out.
Sorry, had to run off before I finished my comment.
I guess what I was trying to say was--don't worry about the noise. As long as your doors are locked and the cats' tails aren't puffed out like feather dusters, then there's nothing to worry about.
Hope you get some sleep.
I read your post after watching the spooky videos on Toasty's post. Creepy.
Also, noise helps me sleep.
Wow – since I am such a paranoid wuss and scared of so many things this is going to be a long comment.
I totally feel your pain. I can't tell you how many times I have gotten soap in my eyes because I was washing my face (eyes closed) and convinced that if I opened them and looked in the mirror I would see Ted Bundy standing behind me, smiling, with a baseball bat or a 2x4. I finally convinced myself that he is dead; he was executed in '89 so I had nothing to worry about. After that I started thinking the same thing but it would be Ted Bundy's son standing there, ready to carry on his father's brutal legacy.
When I was little and I had to go to the bathroom in the night I would jump as far as I could off my bed so if anyone was under there they wouldn’t be able to grab my legs.
Last night I watched an especially scary episode of CSI and I had to close my closet door before I went to bed.
When I get up in the night to pee now, I always look behind the shower curtain. I also avoid looking in the mirror because I am scared of the Candyman (anyone remember that movie?!?!) and I try to avoid at all costs even thinking the words Bloody Mary. But trying not to think of something always makes me think about it more. I try to dash as fast as I can back into the safety of our bedroom when I flush the toilet because I think that the flushing is an opportune time for someone to sneak up on me and get me since I might not be able to hear their footsteps and/or breathing over the water noise.
I also will not put my back to an open doorway (in my own house) at night in the dark – just in case someone is lurking in that room!
Wow – I need therapy!
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