The One About My Constant Lack of Sleep
November 11, 2003

hi kids,

i believe in Good and Evil.

i also believe in a million shades of Grey. the tricky thing about Grey is that, i suppose, as a christian (and there's the rub. whatever the hell that means), there's not really supposed to be any Grey. it's either Good or Evil and anything Grey is part of Evil.

well, i don't like that. i mean sure, it should be easier to just have Black and White, but it's not. so there.

where am i going with this? hang on i forgot.

'k. i believe that as humans (terrible, nasty humans) that we are constantly attacked (on a spiritual level), and that this 'attack' affects (effects? no, affects.) our physical lives.

there. i said it.
feel free to let the stoning begin.

anyway, that was all to lead into the fact that my sleep is being stolen from me. on a nightly basis. i don't know what the Dark Side needs MY sleep for, but apparently it's like gold to them. or maybe not so much gold but more like coal or some other inefficient fuel source that powers some kind of giant machine in hell that crunches up old people and babies and the fodder is used as either hell food or some kind of nutrient for hell soil to grow big, strong, poisonous vegetables which then become hell food.

see? i'm losing it. this is what happens when you get fewer than 4 hours of sleep a night for over a month. heh, you should see my motor skillz. i've dropped my paint brush this week countless times. and driving? driving has become a comedy of errors.
"huh. i'm driving. i wonder where i was going."

i was blaming the cat (Toonces) at first. she was hiding in the house and then waiting for the perfect early morning moment to jump on my head. and if it wasn't a 3am head clawing "good morning!" she would wait until 4am to start a 30 minute staccato meow song. now, if it's not the head clawing or the Morning Song then that must mean that i've found the cat before i went to bed, and i threw her ass out. which means that every night around 11pm she sits outside my window and sings her Evening Meows which i've started thinking of as her prayer, or maybe she's catholic and is saying her Hail Mary's. when in fact she's saying, "hey. hey. hey. jaimie. i know you're awake. your light's on. let me in. i promise. i promise i'll be good. this time. i promise. let me in. the other cats. are coming. let me in."

i don't let her in.

and because i don't let her in, that means at about 1:30 - 2am there's going to be a plethora of cats in the yard and the violent sing-song of Catfight Sex will begin. the Catfight Sex will go on until i get up and trip my way to the front door and yell. sometimes the yelling works. but sometimes, i guess the Catfight Sex is too good, because the cats will run to the edge of the yard and turn and look at me. they look at me (in my crazy mis-matched pj's and crazy hair) with their half-lidded "bored now" eyes and say, "yeah, well in 15 minutes when you're just about to fall asleep...we're gonna start with the Catfight Sex again. bitch."

so if they don't run out of the yard i trip about the hedges and get the hose and blast them. hell yes, it's satisfying, but honestly, if you walk around outside for any length of time and especially if you manage to find and turn on the hose, then you're more than awake and you know it's gonna take you the rest of the morning to fall asleep. that, and with all the Catfight Sex racket and hose blasting, the dogs in the backyard are enjoying a nice barking frenzy.

and there's Toonces on the porch saying, "see? you should have let me in."

now i know you're thinking that that can't possibly happen every night. no, that only happens twice a week. and the Making Biscuits on Jaimie's Face Cat Clawing Spectacular happens once or twice a week as does Toonces Morning Song.

other nights i am plagued with the Flaming Irritable Bowel Syndrome From Outer-Hell. and i'll not bore you with the details of my horror dreams/sleep terrors.

and now, mom has her 4 month spurt of bronchitis (she'll have it til March). so she's barking all night. it's not her fault. it's those damn, germ-toting-snot-filled pre-school kids. bastards.

but the other night was the best. i was awake because i had put the cat out and she was at the window threatening to call all her boyfriends over. i laid there and read my book. finally Toonces had moved on and my eyes were getting oh-so droopy. yay, sleep at last...

then mom and dad start snoring. loud. LOUD.

mom's snore was a short snore. dad's snore was a long, musical snore. and through the walls it was muffled just enough to sound like this:

dad: you wanna know what?
mom: what.
d: you wanna know what?
m: what.
d: you wanna know what?
m: what.
d: you wanna know what?
m: what.

and that "conversation" went on forever.

yes, i can appreciate that it was hilarious, but still, my sleep was being stolen again, just like the night before and the week before and all last month. so i got up and dyed my hair bright yellow. i figured if i was going to be up for a while i might as well do something. that way i wouldn't be giving my sleep away. i was up. because i wanted to be. because i had things to do. take THAT, sleep stealers!

so around 1am i finish and i'm suitably tired and ready for The Big Snooze. i settle in and there's no cats, and mom and dad have finally reached a non-snoring point, and mom's coughing was minimal, and finally god was smiling down on me, and maybe just maybe i'll get to sleep for 6 straight hours.

but then i heard a loud click.
"what the? oh hell. no way!"
it was the delay timer for the dishwasher. the dishwasher that was full of pots and dishes. the dishwasher song goes like this, "CLANG two, three, four, CLANG two, three, four, CLANG two, three four" it's called 55 Minute Opus.

so anyway, i don't know exactly where all my sleep goes when i'm not sleeping when i should be sleeping, but i want it back.

AND IN OTHER FITS OF RANDOM

i'll share with you some of our (dad and i) radio moments of last week. we listen to the local AM oldies channel (for those just tuning in) and sometimes a song we've heard a thousand hundred times over the years will suddenly become either
a. the dumbest song in the world or
b. the most annoying song ever and if we never hear it again that would be fine with us. oliver's good morning starshine, for example. that has to be the most annoying song ever recorded.

anyway we were listening and the #17 all-time-stuck-in-your-head-for-two-weeks song came on, neil diamond's sweet caroline. anyway i'm singing along and i belt out "touching meeeeeee, touching youuuuuuuuu! SWEEEET CARO wait."
"huh?"
"bad touch?"
"hahahahaha"
"miss caroline, if you would for the jury, please show us...on the doll...where the defendant, mr. diamond, touched you."

and then there was this stupid song, a song i've heard a million times but i don't know who did it or what the title is but it's the one with the chorus that goes, "it's so easy, like taking candy from a baby". yeah, i know. so i say, "like making candy from a baby? dad is that legal?"
"hmmm baby candy? yeah."
"i wonder what goes in baby candy."
"oh, well. first there's the baby. and then you add the 4 cups of sugar and 2 cups corn syrup."
"oh man, you were too fast on that one."
"then you spread it on a baking sheet like peanut brittle and pop it in the oven at 350 for about an hour."
"hahahaha. *fake voice* uh, yes. i'm interested in trying some of your candy for babies? my baby loves candy!"
"oh the baby candy? uh yes. how much you take for the baby?"
also, it helps if you know that dad was talking in his Strong Bad voice.

the Birmingham Museum of Art has a cool intro to their page.

do you like online journals? yeah me too. dooce makes me smile.

next week's epitomb: i think candy corn is made from babies.

jaimie "insert 'snappy' quip here" pickle