Friday, April 28, 2006
Scary dream-type-experience (OR) I want my baby's mamma
This post is one that proves this wonderful BLOG isn't written by bored Hollywood writers fishing for comments on plots. That and my grammar is hideous.
The other night I got scared, really scared. I can freak myself out pretty good but this was fight-or-flight inspiring, hair raising, spidey sense triggering fear; maybe even terror.
The wife was out of the country which is no different than her being out of town but it feels different. I guess I sit pretty still when relaxing in front of the TV when she is gone because when I move or get up to get something the dogs jump up and run around. This gets me on edge because they start making noise and the last thing I need during a 168 hour stretch of just Daddy is a couple of kids who wakeup and don't rest well.
I finally get the dogs calmed down and turn in for the night. I know I sleep lighter when she isn't home, its a raised awareness thing. So this NOISE wakes me up. I interpret it as someone pounding violently on the glass slider in the kitchen. I'm up and on my feet and my heart is racing. The big dog is sleeping like a baby and the little dog is somewhere else in the house but not stirring or barking. I hear the noise again and am firmly in the shitting myself realm (although I did not shit myself). I decide to investigate and that no one is harming my kids unless its me and we are in the cereal isle at Shaw's, but I'm not dying with no pants on, so I throw on some jeans. This starts the 'stop freaking out' conversation in my head. I am finally able to reason now that I have my jeans on. I reason that if anything like this was really happening the dogs would be going ape-shiz-diddy, like when the doorbell rings, they hear the Jeopardy 'ding' when someone rings in to give a question or someone knocks on anything.
It turns out the sound was the little dog scratching/digging at the couch before doing that dog turn around 3 times nesting thing. It was really strange but I'll be a monkey's wrench if it didn't sound just like a psycho-chainsaw-wielding-testicle-eating maniac pounding at a glass door.
I don't remember being this terrified in my adult life. Like I said I sleep better when the wife is home or at least in the country.
The other night I got scared, really scared. I can freak myself out pretty good but this was fight-or-flight inspiring, hair raising, spidey sense triggering fear; maybe even terror.
The wife was out of the country which is no different than her being out of town but it feels different. I guess I sit pretty still when relaxing in front of the TV when she is gone because when I move or get up to get something the dogs jump up and run around. This gets me on edge because they start making noise and the last thing I need during a 168 hour stretch of just Daddy is a couple of kids who wakeup and don't rest well.
I finally get the dogs calmed down and turn in for the night. I know I sleep lighter when she isn't home, its a raised awareness thing. So this NOISE wakes me up. I interpret it as someone pounding violently on the glass slider in the kitchen. I'm up and on my feet and my heart is racing. The big dog is sleeping like a baby and the little dog is somewhere else in the house but not stirring or barking. I hear the noise again and am firmly in the shitting myself realm (although I did not shit myself). I decide to investigate and that no one is harming my kids unless its me and we are in the cereal isle at Shaw's, but I'm not dying with no pants on, so I throw on some jeans. This starts the 'stop freaking out' conversation in my head. I am finally able to reason now that I have my jeans on. I reason that if anything like this was really happening the dogs would be going ape-shiz-diddy, like when the doorbell rings, they hear the Jeopardy 'ding' when someone rings in to give a question or someone knocks on anything.
It turns out the sound was the little dog scratching/digging at the couch before doing that dog turn around 3 times nesting thing. It was really strange but I'll be a monkey's wrench if it didn't sound just like a psycho-chainsaw-wielding-testicle-eating maniac pounding at a glass door.
I don't remember being this terrified in my adult life. Like I said I sleep better when the wife is home or at least in the country.
// posted by Bo @ 4:13 PM 
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