Nearly dropping from lack of REM, I have worked out my epitaph. Currently, the winning entry is, “Life was always interesting. Now let me sleep.”
Besides living in the proverbial “interesting times,” the past week has been one for the memoirs. I was pretty much ready and organized for Christmas and feeling smug. The gods grinned and thanked me for my hubris. That very night, I heard a quiet dripping noise, which I optimistically and sleepily attributed to the shower. Oh no, no, no. Had I my wits and some daylight about me, I would have realized my daughter’s waterbed in the attic had sprung a leak and was now dripping into the master bathroom.
The next hour found me in my pajamas and soggy slippers as I dragged the garden hose and most of the garden up the stairs. I then scrambled to remember how to empty a water bed, to find the attachments to do it, hook up the hose to the washing machine faucet (bad idea, but the hose wouldn’t reach the outside faucet), wrenching open very frozen faucet washers, overflowing the washing machine (it has to be on to drain), flinging water in every direction and finally, with some help from equally sleepy housemates, getting the wounded mattress drained and dragged outside. Later I would laugh, but at 6 a.m., I wanted to crawl into a hole and pull it in after me.
Four days, three blowers, two humidifiers, a new rug pad and a hefty check later, life is calm and dry again. As I continue to live my life as a lesson to others, I offer this moral. Spend the $500 for a waterbed frame. It will cost you thrice that to fix things later. OK, so everybody else already knew that. Just shut up.
Carrying on the theme of sleep deprivation and unexpected morning adventures, yesterday at 4 a.m., I awoke to odd thumpings and bonkings under my bed. Puzzled, I finally heard the pitter-patter I have come to know as a chinchilla on the loose. This very fuzzy creature, given to my daughter by a lucky-to-still-be-alive ex-boyfriend, is the master of midnight escapes. This doe-eyed, puffball has teeth like a chainsaw. She can eventually chew through absolutely everything, including the wire that secures her cage door. I did roust my daughter and no sleep was had until we had chased the pet through several rooms and finally cornered her.
I strive for serenity. I try for a simple, predictable life. I am clearly wasting my time. Instead, I get interesting. Let’s raise those glasses in a toast to the absence of boredom, except maybe between 10 p.m. and noon.
Filed Under: Small Talk