I picked Garrett up from the airport last night after 4 days away and I was so sleep deprived by the time we got home that I practically crawled into bed immediately. You would think he would be the tired one — 3 nights out, bachelor-party-style, with all of his high school buddies — and certainly he was, but it was me that was actually doing the bulk of the lamenting on exhaustion.
The truth is, I sleep terribly when he is gone. And no I’m not going to make you sick with stories of the strength of our love, and how I just don’t feel whole without him there, and all of that sappy bologna. Not for a minute. I had a lovely weekend in my house all alone for 4 days — of course, until it was time to go to sleep at night.
After three years of living with Garrett, now when I sleep alone I hear EVERY. SINGLE. CREAK that my house makes (and built in 1952, my house creaks A LOT.) Each time, whether I was just falling into a light slumber or dead asleep, I’m absolutely certain that the source of this creak is some knock-off Criminal Minds Serial Killer crawling down from my attic. And there is no rational reason for this.
It’s not like I’ve never slept alone before. In my pre-Garrett life, long ago as it seems, I was a swinging 20-something with roommates, and you know, as swinging 20-somethings do *ahem* everyone doesn’t always come home every night, right? I understand sleeping alone! I used to enjoy it. Hell, I even lived alone for a period of time and totally survived fearlessly. But now, not so much. Thursday and Friday night I was up multiple times wishing for a bedazzled pair of night vision goggles. And by Saturday night I had had enough of this sleep deprivation to take matters into my own hands. The plan was to have a few glasses of red wine as the evening wound down thus ensuring I would have no problem falling and staying asleep. And this plan’s brilliance was FLAWLESS (even if I did end up using “a few” loosely) until at 4:30 am when my cell phone rang. LOUDLY. Obviously startling me from my boozy slumber.
My first thoughts were totally disorienting. Then I thought Garrett was drunk dialing me, so I looked at the number. It didn’t end up being Garrett but it was a local number. I’m having all of these thoughts, of course, while the phone is still ringing because being startled out of boozy slumber doesn’t allow you EVER to hit the silence button on your cell or send the call to voicemail in a timely manner. So now I’m awake. And pissed. And waiting to see if this asshat leaves a voicemail, and of course he doesn’t. Apparently he was just calling to check in, nothing important here! Then he has the audacity to call back again. 2 Calls! In 2 Minutes! At 4am! A determined personality for sure.
Now the question, in my opinion, that separates the men from the women is this: WHAT WOULD YOU DO NEXT?
I relayed this story to Garrett after picking him up at the airport and he looks at me and says, “Well did you call it back? Weren’t you worried it was one of my friends not in your phonebook calling to say something happened to me?” And then I died laughing.
After 2 mornings of waking up to 4am Four Square check-ins at White Castle and the like, I was not worried it was a friend of Garrett’s calling to tell me something had happened. I was pretty sure they were probably still out and about at the point, what with the pace they had been keeping that weekend, so HELL NO I did not call that number back! And if you are also a Criminal Minds Serial Killer fearing woman I think you know why.
Had I picked up my cell and redialed that missed call, I most certainly would have then immediately heard the sound of a cell phone ringing from up inside my closet or up in my attic. And at this point it was still before 5am and I was NOT ready to go ninja on some attic lurking serial killer’s ass just yet.
The only option was to get up. And after turning on all the lights in every room of the house, I made a pot of coffee and then took to twitter to bitch about it.
OBVIOUSLY.
This is another area, besides exercise, where cats are helpful.
OHMYGOD, I die. I am still laughing about that cat fitness book!
I was the same when we were in San Mateo and lived in a standalone house! Every time Scott would go away for the weekend with the bros, I would barely sleep a wink as I was convinced someone was going to bust through the sliding door that attached to the bedroom and murder me. Funny enough, in San Francisco, I NEVER had such fears–then again, we were in an apartment building with 11 other units, which creates this sense of security.
That’s totally it. Apartment living is fine and much less scary, but being home (IN AN ACTUAL HOME) feels so much more exposed. Hey thanks for distilling that down for me! 😉
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I have trouble falling asleep whether my husband is home or not. If he’s there, I can’t fall asleep because he’s breathing too loudly, or getting too close, or his foot is touching my leg. If he’s not home, every little noise freaks me out. Either way, though, once I do fall asleep I’m OUT.
Well of course that’s exactly what I would have done too! I also may watch too much Criminal Minds, but really: if it had been one of his friends trying to reach you, they’d have left a voicemail! Clearly it was a psycho killer and your tweeting scared him away – never to return! I get that anxiety too sometimes, even after living alone for years. Just once in a blue moon, but I hate it.
My husband works nights, leaving me home alone with my son every night. Dude, I’m totally afraid of serial killer busting through the door in the middle of the night. I feel your pain!
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