I woke up at 5:30 this morning, went downstairs to pee, and was unable to fall back asleep. Partially due to the complete burning off of the alcohol (aka: brain quieter) in my system, partially due to this conversation with my dad.
Me: (stumbles through kitchen, blinded by light, twards potty) "Aargh, grumble grumble, ungh."
Dad: (stirs pans on stove, ignoring cave-daughter)
(after 30 seconds)
Me: (stumbles back through kitchen, brain first registering pans upon stove, coming to a dead stop and putting arm out in a full, index-finger-point at the sausage pan) "What that?"
Dad: (continues stirring) "Sausages."
Me: (cue instant salivation) "Will you save me some, pretty pretty please? Pretty please? For when I wake up for real? Please?"
Dad: (stirring, considering) "Ok. I'll save you"
Me: (content after the Ok, still half-asleep, continues twards the stairs) "Thank you Daddy."
Dad: "One."
So now I, knowing full well that Dad was joking, that he was saving me more than one sausage, am still unable to sleep. This is partially because I want more than one sausage, and partially because my mind can't sleep when it's thinking, and partially because.. well.. we have fleas.
It's all reminding me a lot of one of the first conversations I ever had with B on the phone, which went something like this:
Me: "Blah blah blah talking talking talking talking talking..."
B: "Talking back talkin-"
Me: "Interrupting, talking blah blah blah.. OH MY FUCKING GOD, AUGIE HAS A TICK ON HIM!!!!" (sounds of Sunny running around frantically getting rid of tick that was on Augie. Toilet flushing.) "Now there's something that's never good to hear when you're on the other end of the phone, right?"
B: "Laughing, talking talking talking"
Me: "Talking talking blah blah.. OH MY FUCKING SHIT DAMN THERE'S ANOTHER ONE.. THERE'S ONE ON ME.. OH MY GOD IT'S ON ME!!!!!!" (sounds of Sunny running around frantically, sobbing, toilet flushing, etc.) "Oh god, I'm so sorry (still half-sobbing), it's just.. I've never actually had one.. attached to me before...."
B: "Aww, it's ok. Look at it this way, at least it wasn't really, you know, dug in."
Me: (hiding supreme effort it's taking me to not upchuck all over at the thought of actually letting one dig in to her) "Yeah, you're right, I guess.."
Besides the fact that I'm disclosing the one and only time when B came close to me never talking to him again with that little choice of wording, the whole conversation might help you understand why I might not be able to sleep, knowing that there are fleas in my house.
2 comments:
You know, sometimes ticks can climb on you, eat, and then remove themselves from you and go on their merry way? You never even know they were there.
You guys up there in the frigid north don't deal with the kind of nasty bugs we do here, I guess. It probably never gets quite as humid there as it does here. Good thing, I guess.
I remember that day well. It was one of those almost fateful days, because I remember thinking that you might be one of those really prissy girls that couldn't stand to go outside because the bugs might get you. Luckily you were able to prove yourself later on, so that was no longer a concern.
Fleas - they are a different kind of bug, though. I can understand how they could keep you up. You've handled it well though, no upchucking. :)
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