I'm pretty much brain dead at this point. Monkey Man has a newly-developed cough that only seems to kick in at nighttime. And since his room is upstairs and ours is downstairs, we still use a monitor just in case he needs us during the night...well, the thing is about as quiet as an airhorn even on its lowest setting.
The last two nights I've gotten up and moved upstairs to the guest room so that I can turn the monitor down and be within a few steps of his room. The issue with being downstairs is that by the time I wake up enough to get up, shut our door so the dog doesn't escape, turn on lights so I can stumble upstairs, see what he needs, then do it all in reverse, that it takes me a good hour or so to get back to sleep. Yeah, it pretty much sucks. Luckily, it doesn't happen but every few months but when it does, it reminds me what I hated about having a newborn. I suck at sleep deprivation unless there are copious amounts of alcohol and music involved - usually not a good combination when you're trying to take care of a baby, so obviously this isn't a situation I enjoy very much.
Now, you may ask - where is Joey when all this is going on? Sound fucking asleep. I swear to all that is holy that the man could sleep on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier while the entire thing is shaking and planes are taking off around him. Not to mention the fact that when he's the only person responsible for making sure he bids work profitably and getting enough to keep 130+ people employed (not to mention keeping up the monthly on this high-maintenance mama), rest is of significant importance. So more often than not, I lose the "I get to sleep" battle in our house by default that in all honesty, a chimp could do my job and probably do it better. And don't even ask me about a sleep-deprived chimp. He would totally rock it.
Tomorrow, some drunk blogging. It's ladies' night at Fleming's and I plan on downing as many coconut tears martinis as my little liver can stand. And then come home and tell you about all the drama surrounding this dinner, and the fact that yes, some women really are bitches.
Nighty night! He's already coughing his little head off, so this ought to be fun.