I am fairly certain that this is an exercise in futility as the winds are still blowing and I am tempting the fates to simply blow a bit harder and once again knock out our power. Most likely right before I can hit publish. But since it is 1 am here and I cannot sleep, what else am I going to do to amuse myself?
Perhaps turn the tv back off and listen to the trees crack, bend and crash?
Wait. Back up a moment. The point of this was to prove that my husband, dear and smart though he is, is wrong. Because a falling tree can in fact fall through the top floor to the bottom floor of a house. He is of the belief that the tree will fall through our roof and rest comfortable on our kitchen table (which creaks when we put a plate on it so I don't see how it would hold up bearing a rather large dogwood but whatever). To this I said "Ha!"
Right. So, we're having a wind storm. A rather nasty one this year (it's actually a normal occurrence this time of year it's just a bad one this time) and we've lost power several times now.
The first time my head exploded. I had just finished sprinkling carpet cleaner and was ready to vacuum. My sister (the one married to Joe's brother) and BIL will be here tomorrow night and as she's a little crazy in the cleaning arena (You know how my MIL is um.... not really into the whole 'clean is a good thing' scene? My sister is on the opposite extreme of the spectrum in that she cannot sleep at night if there is a single unwashed dish in the house. At her last visit I kept leaving plates and cups out and in half-hidden places. It drove her nuts and provided me with hours of amusement for I am evil). So, power out, kids freakin', husband mad about missing his football game, me holding dead vacuum and no one has yet eaten dinner.
So we went out.
By the time we returned, power was back and it was bedtime for all creatures under 10. I quickly ran vacuum and tucked kids into bed. In Bre's room. Together. (ooh. lights flickering. not good. whimper).
Joe had seen a tree next to our house (we are next to a greenbelt) leaning in such a way that we was certain it was going to fall on our house once the winds picked up. He determined that the direct trajectory of said tree would be in David's room. Which to me means that we should all be sleeping in a hotel where there are no trees nearby but to him meant the kids and I should sleep downstairs (and I am ever more thankful that I said Bre should have a queen size bed so that when my parents came to visit there would be a comfy spot for them to snore) and he would remain upstairs in our bed alone because apparently he is immune to falling trees. I guess he's been vaccinated or something.
So off he was to bed and the kids were giggling but soon asleep and I sat down to play with my new MP3 player (which I will tell you about later as I need more time to play with it but people? So. Freakin. Cool.) and no sooner did I have the stuff downloaded then the power went out.
1 minute later, power back on.
I turn on the computer, load my settings, begin to type and........
So off to bed with MP3 player (yay for already loaded music and radio feature!) and book.
*Side story (because I never do that!) I am re-reading A Monk Swimming by Malachy McCourt (which if you've never read it you should, but start with Frank McCourt and Angela's ashes. They are honest and witty and so funny, I have never felt such empathy for someone who, at the time, was such a fool. But it's really a beautiful book and worth the read.) which once caused a fight between my sister and I. She insisted his name was pronounced Muh-lack-key, which to my ears sounds like something my cat would hack up. I said (as it's pronounced anytime I've ever heard it) Mal-uh-keye (long i). Anyway, I have this habit that when I really get into a book, I start reading it in their voice, or at least the voice I imagine them to have which in this case is deep, a bit sandy and with an Irish accent (duh). And I've done this my entire life, but sometimes those accents slip out. So when I'm talking to someone that Irish brogue slips in there and they ask my if I'm having a seizure because I don't do accents any sort of justice. Am I the only one who does that? **
So, off to bed am I with my book and MP3 player until I can't read anymore because my eyes are too heavy. Bre has her tiny corner of the bed and I have my tiny corner and between us David has sprawled out in such a way as to take up the space of 2 adults. Bugger. He proceeds to snore and fart as if we have no right to complain. He very much takes after his father in the snoring and farting department and I began to wonder just when the hell that boy had eaten tacos.
I turned the other way and pretended to not hear the bending and cracking and crashing of trees outside Bre's window.
Unfortunately, Bre had decided some weeks ago that curtains were just the thing to use while performing her swinging monkey routine and they had been ripped nearly all the way off so I could see the trees swinging and swaying.
I shut my eyes and pretended my leg didn't itch, my back didn't ache, the wind was not going to knock over a tree that would soon trap us under layers of rough bark, David was not attempting to further deplete the ozone with his farting and Bre was not bouncing and tossing.
You would think that someone who could not get through the day without a nap would have no trouble sleeping. I guess anxiety over-rides sleep requirements.
I was finally being lulled into sleep with Justin Timberlake bringing sexy back when the power popped back on and now here I am.