Sleepless in Seaforth...

... all through the house
not a creature was stirring
(if you ignore the damn mouse...)

I do not know if it is because of age, or the deluge of water I've been made to drink (my dear wife appears out of nowhere bringing gifts of gallons of water for me to drink because of my "bladder condition"), but it seems that in a regular manner I have been lately getting up in the night to empty said bladder.

Back in the good ole' days this was a rare occurrence, generally occasioned due to having imbibed in too many non-water drinks of a happy-kind. Nevertheless, tonight I went to bed early - a little after 10:30 pm - so here it is a little after 4:00 am and I was forced out of my warm bed, on short notice, to run to the batroom.

Now, our downstairs bathroom is beside the family room in which the cats are imprisoned at night. There are 2 frosted windows in the bathroom, there to let light in from the family room. The problem is at night, the bathroom lets light into the family room, letting the cats know that SOMEONE is UP AND ABOUT AND SHOULD BRING US FOOD. So, being cats not of the genteel persuasion, they start running around, bumping into things, and being vociferous in the usual cat methodology. Which, of course, makes any semi-awake person-who-gets-up-in-the-night-to-go-pee morph into a WIDE-AWAKE person-with-no-hope-of-getting-back-to-sleep-soon.

By the way, the dogs - who have lately taken to sleeping in "dad's office", that is to say the library, are sprawled on the floor looking at me with eyes that say, "ARE YOU NUTS!!?? GET BACK TO BED!!" I think that is why dogs ARE "man's best friend" and cats are, well, to put it mildly, not.

Now, part two of my dilemma is this: Now that I have ignored both the cats and dogs, and "awoke" my computer to share these last few moments with you it is now 4:45 am. Because this is a truck day, in a few short minutes Daniel (and sometimes Jay) will come stumbling down the stairs, trudge though the living room into the kitchen, will throw on every light possible in the kitchen, and will generally be cat-like in the thumping and banging of things and be similarly vociferous - saying such things as: "WHAT!! WHO ATE THE (generally some vague thingy) I WAS SAVING FOR LUNCH?? NOW WHAT AM I GONNA' MAKE??!! THERE'S NO FOOD IN THIS HOUSE!!"

At this point, most times, their genteel mother, ever mindful of sucky babies crying for food, will herself get up, trudge into the kitchen, will show mounds of edibles in the fridge, in the freezer, in the cupboards, etc., will pour herself a coffee (the first of 3) and will commiserate with the children until they are off and running. She then will stay up, so as she will have ammunition with which to complain about later in the day when everyone else finally awakes and starts to trudge around as well.

*sigh*

Welcome to my world.