Normally I’m in bed by 8:30 or 9 p.m. and up around 4:30 or 5 a.m. That’s my natural rhythm. I can’t help it. I like to joke that I’m really an East Coast soul living in a West Coast time zone.
Steve loves to sleep. He typically would sleep ten to twelve hours if on vacation. I don’t know how he does it. My hubby can wake up, use the restroom or take the dog out, then jump right back into bed and sleep for hours.
I can’t. When my eyes pop open, I’m awake and ready to go. Even if it’s two o’clock in the morning. I hate those days.
Yesterday after a long day of baseball with two heartbreaking losses, we were all dog tired. I was trying to get coolers unloaded and cleaned up, run a couple loads of wash, and feed kidlet and the dogs one last time before shooing them all off to bed. It was past my bedtime.
My daughter is away for the holiday weekend so we are dog-sitting her two pups. Our dog is absolutely thrilled to have company. Our dog and her dogs eat different food. One of her pups has a delicate digestive system and shouldn’t eat our dog’s food. One of the most efficient ways of keeping the dogs at their respective bowls is to literally stand there while they eat and stop them from roaming to the ‘wrong’ dish.
I had finished running water for a bath and was heading in to soak a bit with my current book. Hubby was settling into his recliner in the living room, dogs were eating, and kidlet ran down to the rec room to replay Friday night’s Mariners game against the Angels on his X-Box. (Side note, he picked a different closer and won. Told you so.)
I asked Steve if he would come into the hallway between the kitchen and our bedroom where the dogs were eating, and ‘stand guard’ to prevent bowl swapping. He said sure.
I went into our bedroom suite, closing the door, then went in to our bathroom and climbed in the tub. A minute later I heard the door to the powder room close and the fan go on. It stayed on for almost five minutes, then went off and the door was swung open with a bang.
Hmmm. That was odd that kidlet came upstairs to use the bathroom instead of using the basement bathroom. Maybe the basement one was out of TP.
I texted kidlet to see if that were the case. “What?” texted he. “I’m downstairs.”
Hmmm. I texted Steve and his phone buzzed next to his sink five feet away from me. I got out of the tub and grabbed a towel. Sticking my head out of the bedroom door I could see one of my daughter’s dogs finishing up at our dog’s dish. I called to Steve. He was in his recliner already. When I asked why he didn’t watch the dogs as I asked, he responded that he really didn’t think it mattered, that it was just for a minute that he wasn’t there.
Uh huh. I reminded him that I had asked him and he had consented. If it didn’t matter I wouldn’t have asked him. Is he of the opinion that I am stupid? Does he truly believe that his Aspergers logic is superior? Does he really think he is God and is all-knowing?
“Well, it was just for a minute.”
Sigh. I went back in to our bathroom and sunk down into my tub. Thank you Lord for my husband, our kids, our home, and my sanity, which I choose to keep intact for at least the rest of this day.
I choose to live happily ever after.