Post last updated: September 25th, 2018
Sometimes sleep evades me. Or I stay up too late reading a good novel. Or surfing the web. Now retired, I figure I can sleep in. However, the people I live among have their own issues and internal clocks and they botch my plans to sleep in. I have a few examples to share.
In mid-May, Poppie and I went back to Atlanta to see Miss Priss and attend a patriotic show her church holds every year. Being the crazy relative of the family, I am hidden away in the basement. Poppie, too, although I’m unsure why Miss Priss puts him down there because he does not exhibit symptoms of clouded thinking. In the basement, Poppie and I have about a thousand square feet. We each have our own room because it is a finished, walk-out basement. The bathroom happens to be at my bedroom door and most of what goes on in there does not disturb me. It’s a good thing, too, because Poppie gets up at 4 a.m.
One of those mornings, and you know this happened on the day I was dead dog tired, he took a shower that bolted me straight up in bed with a wild-eyed look. My hair was probably standing on end, too. I don’t know what he was doing in that shower stall, a square box about 3 foot by 3 foot, but it sounded like something was chasing him around the stall. I’m talking a chase scene with enough noise to make Burt Reynolds proud had it been included in his movie, Smokey and the Bandit. The first possibility to pop in my head was a squirrel because both Miss Priss and her daughter are terrified of bugs and critters. If you are unreasonably terrified of something, it shows up in your life. That’s the law.
As the racket continued in the shower, I had second thoughts about the squirrel. Having lived in Atlanta myself during the mid-80’s, I knew the snobs of Cobb County tried to avoid undesirable elements in their county. It was likely that squirrels were on the list because I couldn’t remember ever seeing them in the neighborhood. Chipmunks, either. So I was at a loss for what might be chasing Poppie. I decided against barging in there to save him when the noise stopped. My beauty sleep, however, was shot.
We returned from Atlanta to discover that Country Boy, my next door neighbor, had decided to build a lean-to onto his shed.
He joined the conspiracy against my sleep by getting up, day after day, at the crack of dawn to hammer 4 nails before retiring to his kitchen for a cup of coffee. I’m assuming this because why in the world would you hammer 4 nails and quit? By the time I was up and moving, his coffee break was over. He took another break around noon during which he apparently plotted the snatching of an afternoon nap from my agenda.
I’m hoping June will be a better month for my beauty sleep. I need all the help I can get.