To say I’m exhausted might be the understatement of the century.
It all started because I went to bed later than I normally do…about 2 hours later. Bad idea.
My husband soon followed. The only problem is he likes to peer out the blinds before actually getting in bed. Yes, he’s always on patrol. You never know what kind of punks are going to be lurking around late at night in our neighborhood. Anyway, as I’m trying to maintain my original sleep level he mentions that there is a cop car driving into our complex. Hmm, that’s odd. Not technically unheard of, but still a little odd. About 5 minutes later, dogs start barking. Big ones. Big, loud ones. So again, Ash peeks out the blinds to see what’s going on. Nothing. That’s right… nothing. So why in the name of all that’s holy are these dogs barking at the top of their lungs?
Okay, so I manage to fall asleep again. But guess what? The beasts start the barking up again and continue to do so for the next 4 hours.
Are you kidding???
Don’t they sleep?
Don’t they ever come up for air?
Why am I being tortured like this?
Before I know it, Ashley has grabbed his pillow and left the room. Why I didn’t follow is beyond me. Clearly, I’m a masochist. There can be no other excuse.
The owner of the dog(s) (I’m still unclear as to how many there were) gets home at 3:45 am and suddenly all barking ceases…..until 6:30am when the insanity picks right back up where it left off.
If you’ve ever seen the Seinfeld where Elaine is being tortured by the yappy neighbor dog, just picture me in the same hell, except with bigger, meaner, and louder dogs.
And if you’re looking for me, I’ll be napping in my cubicle.