Yesterday morning, the phone rang before 5 a.m. That’s a full 30 minutes before I’d planned to get up. Even so, I flew out of bed. Calls at that hour aren’t usually good ones.
The mother got it on the second ring. She was downstairs, apparently wrangling with Christmas gifts, so I didn’t hear the conversation. As I flew down the basement stairs, I heard the phone settle back into its cradle. The mother heard me coming. (People in Cincinnati probably heard me coming; I was moving kinda fast and trying to not trip over the dog, the cat, their respective paraphernalia, or the mother’s wrapping remnants as I ran.)
“It was that silly old woman again,” says the mother as I hit the last step. Then she proceeded to relay their brief conversation to me. “I told her that I was already awake, but that she woke my daughter up.”
This morning, another silly old woman woke me up at 4:30. Only this silly old woman lives at This D*mn House and is more commonly known as the mother.
I kept hearing this strange noise, but trying to go back to sleep anyway. Screeeeeech. Thunk. Thunk.
Finally, I couldn’t take it. I got up and asked the mother: “WHAT is that NOISE?!”
“I guess it’s me trying to tape up this box,” came the answer. OK. Fine. But WHY at 4 freakin’ 30 A.M.?
“I couldn’t sleep,” came the next answer.
Oh yeah? Well that makes two of us.