My house is scary at 3am

I fell asleep ridiculously early last night. Really. Really really early.

I ordered pizza so it would meet us just as we got home from work. I was starving, and it was a good choice for dinner. So, dinner was eaten and cleaned up by like 6:00.

I got comfy on the love sac by the open window and curled up to finish watching Bolt (cute movie by the way) and pretty much immediately fell asleep. I'm guessing I was out by 6:30.

I woke up for the last 5 minutes of the movie (which is how I know it was cute, I always judge a movie by it's ending anyway.) and again after the 934th time the menu played it's little 5 second soundtrack.

I looked out the window and thought about what a beautiful night it was, the cool air coming in through the window smelled good (really! even out here!) and I considered that we should probably go for a walk instead of wasting this beautiful day.

Then I rolled over and fell back asleep.

That's why I know my house is scary at 3am.

By nature I'm a sleeper inner and I like it.  But when I've already been asleep for 9 hours, and all the windows in the house are open, and my neighbors (not the great ones) are having some mondo fight (which apparently requires the F word about a thousand times) in their driveway "Well #$*&# I'll just leave you #$^@ here then! #$&^#% that!" I'm bound to wake up.

Once they revved their engine and tore off into the night, I started hearing every other sound my house makes at 3am.

The wind blows my curtains, which bump against the papers on my hope chest and it sounds like someone is RIGHT THERE. The stairs creak when nobody is on them. Josh snores - but only once every 28 breaths (yes, I counted) and it sounds like someone is suffocating him. Birds chirp, but not in the "birds chirping, sun shining" kind of way, more in the "I'm creepy and I will kill you" kind of way. Cars drive on Legacy going 2 miles an hour, which clearly means they're stalking someone. And our other neighbors (the incredibly nice ones) open their garage door. OK probably because she's a nurse and nurses work weird hours and she was probably just leaving for the day...but still! It's creepy!

Let's just say it was a good thing I'm too chicken to get out of bed (remember, there's a guy standing RIGHT THERE rustling papers!) and call the police about all the people who are trying to kill me in the middle of the night.

This morning things look a lot better. Birds chirping, sun thinking about shining. Cool breeze blowing the curtains and softly floating back down. Things really do always look better in the morning.

On why I'm a sissy.

Some things gross me out. I’m weak. I’m queasy. All right, I’ll say it: I’m a sissy (and probably a codfish too, although I’ve never really understood what that means….) (I use a lot of parentheses....I blame ADD.... Does it bug you?)

I blog-stalk this hilarious person who I’ve never met before, (I found her on facebook and thought she was someone else, but she turned out to be totally hysterical and fun to blog-stalk anyway, so I’ve been proudly (secretly parentheses in the parentheses? Is that even legal outside of algebra?) blog-stalking her for more than a year now…that is another topic for another day) and she happens to live in Egypt (not the kind of blog you read to feel better about your normal life). She has this incredibly cool and very fascinating life and is always doing something exciting.  Today I happened to read this post and my stomach turned over after the first picture. I was very afraid of losing my lunch (which was really good today by the way. I love taco bar! OK now this is just ridiculous....), but I kept reading anyway.

Against my better judgment I read the whole post. Now I feel sick. I just can’t handle blood. Or needles.

Know what else grosses me out?

Fingernails. Josh loves me so he cuts his fingernails when I’m not home. I love him so I paint my toenails when he’s not home (He can’t handle the smell. But not because he’s a sissy (which he’s not, even if he did love Teddy Ruxpin. Aundrea told me Teddy Ruxpin is actually not that sissy-ish), but because he can’t breathe). I hate fingernails so much that I NEVER cut my nails. Luckily I have what I think are actually fairly attractive long nails, but I never cut them off, because the leftovers gross me out. When people cut their nails in public, I want to throw up on their faces.

Yicky-creepy-old-men. Seriously, if you’re cute like a grandpa and say “sweetie” or “honey” or “punkin” to me, that’s fine. But if you just think you’re cute like a grandpa but in fact you are a yicky-creepy-old-man, please just call me by my name. You gross me out. And don’t ever, EVER touch me. Ever.

Pens which have been chewed. ‘Nuff said.

Snot. Sometimes I feel like I’ll be an OK mom when the time comes. But one thing that assures me that I’ll be the mediocre-est mom ever to roam the face of the earth is my aversion to snot. I really can’t handle it. It makes me gag. Every time. I don’t care how cute the child underneath it is. Or how much I love them, I really puke a little in my mouth when I see it. Forget about touching it.

In spite of all the things that make me go “buuuuuhhh” (Ron White shudders), I’m a little brave about some things. Like paint fumes, toilets, and stuffed animal heads. So, I figure it all evens itself out. Right?!?!?!