Last night my husband and I went to bed last night about 10 pm. This morning I woke up at 5.30 am. On the dot.
There was no reason for me to wake up. I was tired. I have had a busy, stressful week. I ran 3.1 km from my daughter’s kindergarten to work yesterday morning. Then yesterday afternoon, I ran 3.1 km back to my daughter’s kindergarten from work. The legs are a bit sore.
At around 5.30 am every morning our next door neighbour goes for a cigarette and a bowel movement in his downstairs lav. This stops everyone in his house having to smell and hear him. We are not so lucky.
5.35 am Lights on. I wake up and start feeling around the bed for my husband. I find my husband’s nose and squeeze in a half awake, disorientated and slightly infantile manner.
“Aaargh” screams my husband “what are your doing?”
“Checking you are alive” I say.
“You’re nuts” he says affectionately.
Cue a deep scraping noise that could conceivably be the sound of deep bowel elimination. I hide my head under my pillow.
“It’s ok” says my husband “that’s only the sound of furniture scraping along the floor not the sound of more bowel action”.
Oh good and now I really feel like going back to sleep.
From about the end of January until the beginning of April we all seem to sleep very badly in here.
My dreams are easily interrupted with visitations of unpleasant visitors. We have a ghost who I normally chastise for this. There was, however, nothing mistakable about the scaly sliding scraping and flopping thing working its way up and down my vertebrae a while back.
Eyes open, sitting bolt upright, flicking right and left like an old lady you’d ignore at a bus stop.
“COCKROACH?!!!” I eep.
“Don’t be silly” says my husband while whacking the beetle with a heavy object, several times.
I have to shower. Change the sheets. Have a cup of tea.
Then I sit upright on my pillows, sheet tucked under my breasts like a 70s sitcom starlet.
No sleeping now. Not without copious amounts of alcohol.
It’s now 6.00 am. The decent coffee place doesn’t open until 7 am.