I think at some point, this blog will turn into a sleep blog. Not the kind that gives you sleep tips, but the kind where the blogger just whines on and on about sleep-related problems. Not actual problems either. Just things like oh, I want to start waking up early!
But oh, I can't seem to be able to wake up early!
Oh, turns out I'm just not a morning person.
I wake up late these days and get close to nine hours of sleep every day.
I got one less hour of sleep last night and now I'm grumpy.
Now that you know the general theme of this post, ♫let's start at the very beginning♫, shall we?
6:30 p.m: We return home from work, gym, and grocery shopping.
6:35 p.m: I tell Shane while loading groceries into the fridge that we need to throw out the trash.
6:40 p.m: I see him taking off his shoes and bark at him to pay attention to what I say for once in his life. "THROW OUT THE TRASH, SHANE!"
*So he picks me up and flings me out of the window*
7:00 p.m: We're on the couch - yes, the same tiny couch that barely fits both our butts at the same time - and a giant foot lands on my face.
*Shane's had a long day of running around at work. He need a foot massage*
I oblige only to gag at the state of his feet. He'd taken off his shoes after all, but I wonder when he found the time to roll around in a pig sty afterwards. Surely, my floors are not that dirty?
7:30 p.m: I get up to grab both our dinners and realise that my entire lower body is numb due to the weight of the giant legs that were resting on me.
7:40 pm: In the kitchen, I grab only one of the two packs of special yogurt we bought to have post dinner. I want to save mine for later and mix it with sugar.
8:00 pm: Shane comments on the amazing texture of this new yogurt we bought. It was definitely a good decision.
8:05 p.m: Another giant foot lands on my face. Apparently, his feet still hurt and I'm very good at giving massages.
"Save the flattery for another time", I tell him.
"But then, how can I request you to please mix a little bit of salt into my yogurt? Pweeeeeeez?"
*It wasn't just right the first time around so I had to get up and mix salt into his yogurt twice*
9:00 p.m: Shane's out cold. He had a long day at work, needed a nap, and his feet hurt. Good riddance, both he and his dirty feet were getting on my nerves.
11:00 p.m: I hear stirring in the bedroom and let out a frustrated groan. One that blends in the universe with that of all the mothers whose kids woke up from their naps before they were supposed to.
12:00 a.m: My eyes start watering. It's sleep time. But a chirpy monkey in my bed tells me that he can't possibly sleep now! He just took a nap and is wiiiide awake.
1:00 a.m: I let the monkey stay in bed but make him the dim his screens and reduce the volume on his headphones. I don't want any light in my eyes or sound bleeding into my ears.
2:30 a.m: I'm almost fast asleep and beginning to dream. And then, HE LAUGHS. OUT LOUD. #lol
I probably wouldn't have heard that in my sleep had it not been for the way his entire body shook when he laughed, thus causing the entire bed to shake, thus causing me to wake up and almost scream "EARTHQUAKE!". I bet that was funny to him too.
*I kick him out of the bedroom.*
4:00 a.m: A certain monkey climbs back into to bed and lets me know that it's 4 a.m.
8:30 a.m: The monkey wakes up to shower. I ask him if he's having breakfast. He asks me if I could pweeeeeez fix him a smoothie. I ask him to disappear before I shove my fist up his ass.
8:45 a.m: I toss, I turn, I curse the sunlight sweeping into the room. I remember his face when he said pweeez and feel sad that he won't be getting any breakfast.
9:00 a.m: I open the fridge to make him a smoothie but something seems off. I scan, I sniff, I wait for it to finally come to me.
9:05 a.m: I bang on the bathroom door.
"Open it open it open it open it or so help me GOD..."
*He opens the door and makes the pweeez face again. He knows what I know.*
"Did you. Eat. MY. Yogurt?"
"I was up all night...it was...it was late...and I was hungry...and there was nothing in the fridge..."
"We JUST got the groceries. There were eggs, there was bread. There's jam, there's peanut butter. There's the other yogurt. There's milk, there's cereal..."
"Wait, you would have been fine if I had the other yogurt?"
"Not if you finished it, obviously. That's a big pack. But yeah, anything but the yogurt that you went on and on about, and I saved for later so that I could mix it with sugar!"
"I promise to bring it back today. I'll make it up to you."
*There's that pweeez face again. It gets me every time and I let this one go too*
And now, I'm sleepy but I don't like taking naps in the middle of the day. I'm hungry but all I want to eat right now is that one yogurt mixed with sugar like I'd planned.
I'm the last person you'd think is a pushover. I've hardly ever let anyone take me for granted in my life. And being a horrible human being, in general, makes it easy for me to not do people many favors or let them have their way with me. I've never even gotten up from my seat to bring my aging parents their spectacles when they struggled to read something in my presence.
And yet, here I am massaging the gigantic dirty feet that almost knocked my nose off my face, letting thunder thighs numb my entire body, getting up twice to make his post-dinner snack taste just right, not getting enough sleep at night because he took a nap, feeling guilty for not fixing him breakfast when he totally deserves to have...not my fist, not a giant fist either, but an entire pineapple shoved up his arse.
This is what being married to a man-child is, I guess. You become a parent to a grown human being. You make your choice and then you get to live with it.