(They Say That) Waking Up is Hard To Do

I am all for short bursts of large effect lately, with long pauses in between.  Not a good way to keep you all coming around.  Alas...actually, that's it.  There is no alas, unless the blankness qualifies.

This time last week, headlights were a judgment call.  Now they are mandatory, and the darkness is having its effect.  I think I mentioned recently that the change of seasons always has at least a little something good for me, even if it means going to this kryptonite three-quarter-year of a cold, wet blanket we call October through June.  Changing things are exciting.  Cooler weather and longer nights are a sleeper's boon, but it is getting entirely too difficult to wake up these days.  It is so comfortable in there.  The air is to cool to join with, the light is to harsh to turn on, but the blanket and the warm body beside, well, we're Goldilocks having found her "just right."  And then there's the things you just can't help.

Last night was a small chaos.  I sleep light every night, and there were too many strange noises.  What is a "strange" noise compared to anything else?  It's not the fridge compressor or the ice maker, it's not the little lock on the utility meter cover that swings and rattles in the wind, it's not the frenetic clicks of the dying baby monitor, and it is not the dog trying to chew her way through her crate.  It's something strange.  Also, the neighbor's motion sensor lights kept coming on and off at about 4:00 AM.  In this neck of the woods, crime is somewhat commonplace, though a good bit short of rampant, so I take note of these things.  My first stop is always to bring the dog out of her crate.  We patrol the house, which is small, so it doesn't take long.  I grab a kitchen knife along the way, turn on all the exterior lights, and eventually let her outside to scan the back yard with her sniffer and neurosis both on their highest settings.  But she's wary:  "You woke me up and you're carrying a huge knife.  And now you're sending me out there all alone?  Fine, I'll do it, but I am going to make you work at getting me back in here."  The front yard and the street beyond are wide open and well lit, so I settle for a scrutinous glance out that way.  All clear.

Wife and child safe and sound?  Check.  House secure?  Check.  Dog satisfied?  Check.  Back to sleep?  Check.  Not so fast, mister.  There's a winding down period to be had here.  You don't get to spend 10 minutes at 4AM scanning your house for nefarious ne'er do wells and just go straight into the sawing logs portion of the program.  You have to mentally summarize the last ten years of your life, and organize the next twenty, before you can start to relax.  But of course after that you'll still have the mystery of what happened to the comfortable pillow you had earlier, before you went out on patrol.  This can't be the one that was so lush and welcoming just a few minutes ago, can it?  Did the woman take it on the sneak, and leave me with this starched rain slicker in a pillow case that I have now?  How in the hell did I ever sleep on this damned thing?

WTF?  Seriously?  The alarm is going to go off in 13 minutes?  Nothing happens in 13 minutes.  Or is 13 what they mean when they say 12 to 15 minutes?  What the hell have I been doing?  And here it looks like I just got my old, heavenly pillow back.  It's so cool and soft, and the bed loves me again.  What happened?  Oh well, at least I can get an early start, drive to work on empty streets and get some work done in silence and solitude before coworkers show up. 

Crap!  Forgot to move the laundry to the dryer last night.  So this is how it's going to be...