It’s Ok, blame the dog

I am tired today. Really, really tired. I woke up before 2am this morning because Michael was talking to the dog. He says it was because she was chewing on her foot. I say it is because he couldn’t sleep, I was, and he needed someone to talk to…or wake up. The interesting part is that Michael never suffers from insomnia. That is solely my domain and I am a bit disappointed that he is attempting to take my irrational worry symptoms and make them his own. Mine, mine, mine.

In all seriousness, I have been sleeping so much better since we moved here. I am certain a major part of that is a consistent schedule in one time zone, no graveyard shifts and a Blackberry that is significantly quieter than it has ever been before. I used to wake up just to check it in the middle of the night. Now I sometimes forget where it is, let alone remember to look at it.

When I would be in the Philippines I would average about 3-4 hours of sleep at a time. Often I would get seven in a 24 hour period, but rarely all in the same run. I remember so many days lying awake in my condo stressing about not sleeping, which of course would keep me awake longer. Ah the vicious circle. And don’t even get me started on what it feels like to stay awake for 28 hours or longer. I am not a fabulous person.

Michael used to send me all these articles and emails detailing the negative effects of sleep deprivation. I already was experiencing the delirium, under eye circles and irritability, and now got to worry about heart attacks and early death. Thanks love, that won’t stress me out more.

So here we lay at 2am. He claims he was worried about the house closing and about the land survey in particular (our neighbors recently planted shrubs on what appears to be our property). Personally I think he is jumbled up with excitement about the potential battle with the neighbors. In his head he was probably dressed as a Barbarian and charging up the hill to our boundary line and sheering off the fledgling plants with a single swipe of his axe. All while the neighbors are screaming in agony as he wipes his blade clean and turns towards them. Of course he is only wearing a loincloth. If that doesn’t keep you up at night, I don’t know what will.

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