It started at 1:40am exactly.
Fact #1: B and I are boring. We get up for work every morning about 7, and we’re both tired by 9pm. He usually conks out by 10, I’m a rebel and I stay up until 11.
So at 1:40am we are in a lovely deep sleep when all of a sudden Stew starts barking like crazy and jumps off the bed.
Crap. Not again. B had not yet witnessed (heard?) this… so he was confused. I knew better. A lull in the barking and the cause of Stew’s angst was apparent.
Sounds. LOUD sounds… of a… erm… lustful? nature. Loud screaming sounds. From the other half of the duplex… where my landlord resides and hosts several-times-weekly sleepovers with his girlfriend. Who I affectionately call, The Screamer.*
Don’t these people work? (In truth he does and she doesn’t… but come on dude its 1:40am here).
Sigh. So there is Stew. Confused. The wall is making noises and he is determined come hell or high-water to protect B and I from the wall with his most vicious barks and growls. We scold him to no avail.
Finally he calms a bit, and I settle back in to reattempt sleep.
Fact #2: I love sleep. LOVE IT. Am super duper cranky if woken up from it for any reason.
And then B snuggles closer (how cute), and starts rubbing my arm (oh no..). Because to men, if he’s awake, and I’m awake, and the dog is already barking….
At which point I say (ever-tactful): You MUST be kidding, right?
Not the best formula for a happy morning. And it is all my landlord’s fault.
*She is actually a very nice person. But I stand by the name.