Last night was hot. Hot like perspiration, and kicking off covers, and wishing I could just sleep on the cold lino floor in my bathroom.
The night before last night was sleepless. Why? Well, at 11pm I decided to go to bed.
Unfortunately it quickly became apparent that I wasn’t ready for sleep Instead, I got back up to scrub out my two* fish bowls… Sometimes at midnight when there’s a full moon, I get crazy urges to clean, or rearrange heavy furniture. Its one of the fun reasons why it’s good for me to live without flatmates, and downstairs neighbours.
* I’ve got two bowls to clean, because one has a tadpole called Murray, and the other has a fish called Mac. Both have decimated the orignal population of their tanks to be left victorious, but lone serials killers, forever living side by side but separated by the metaphoric and literal glass wall of their dark actions.
In other words, it appears my aquatic pets do best without flatmates and close neighbours too.
At 1am I tried again, only to find myself in one of those dramatic over-tired sobbing moments because “I’m just. So. Tired. And I can’t sleep, but I want to sleep. And I hate being fat. And work is so *Sniff* Busy. And I think that I need to move my lounge to a north facing arrangement, but I can’t because I don’t have an extension lead for the TV.” *Sob!*
When I was done with the pity party for one, I read a short story about a dragon who keeps falling for the wrong girls. Then I critiqued that in terms of the whole lizard-human ick-factor (High.)
I cuddled with the cat.
I got up four. Different. Times. To check out weird noises and creaks in the dark. (Safety first! Especially if it gives me a chance to indulge my lingering fear of ghosts in the dark.)
Then I turned off all the lights and stared at my clock in the dark promising myself that if I could fall asleep now, I’d still get five, four and a half, four hours of sleep before I absolutely had to get up.
At roughly 3am I’d finally lulled myself into a state of sleepiness. Like, not actual sleep, more the state where sleep might be achieved, or the edge of sleep, where one tiny nudge can either have you dreaming, or in the other direction, awake and sobbing about feng shui-ing your kitchen again.
It was at this point I become aware that I have just clearly heard a man say hello – FROM THE END OF MY BED. I spring up like a champion gymnast, and throw myself at the nearest light. Nothing. So the next obvious thing is to retrieve my baseball bat, and phone, and then flip on every light inside and outside the house. Then I perched myself on the back of the sofa (still clutching the with my baseball bat) on the verge of dialing the police…
This is the point that I realise that the cat – who hasn’t woken up despite the fact that I launched myself over him like an action movie hero – is snoring.
And if you close your eyes and imagine that you have kind of a high level of baseline anxiety at the moment, and you also have a phobia of men breaking into your bedroom at night, then every second or third extra-vigorous cat snore sounds an awful lot like ‘hello’
In fact, I’d go as far as to say that snore sounds EXACTLY like a creepy little man saying hello. It just happens that this is the first time my brain has connected this particular cat noise, with a more scary person noise, resulting in me at the most awake I’ve ever felt, at 4am in the morning shaking from residual adrenaline.
Cat ownership is awesome. I reccomend everyone put themselves through it.