Things That Don’t Suck

… Today, that would be my hair. Seriously, I’ve got curls from here until next Tuesday and volume that’s just on the tasteful side of country-western. My hair looks so good, one of my end-users didn’t recognize me. She wanted to take a picture with her camera phone for posterity. It looks that good.

The rest of my day? Well, let’s just say that Kristian woke me up an hour before the ass-crack of dawn and leave it at that.

Ah, who am I kidding? I can never just leave it at that…

Kristian had some scheduled maintenance server reboot thingamadoohicky this morning. Something that necessitated him getting up 5:30? 5:45? I don’t know, it was early. We hemmed and hawed about it, but eventually decided that it would be best for everyone if he slept on the couch. It was mostly best for his ribs, because I was likely to break them with my elbows of fury if he hit the snooze button his usual seventeen times at 5:30 in the morning.

I hate it when one of us sleeps on the couch. It makes me feels as if we have somehow messed something up. Joke about making him sleep on the couch? I do it all the time. Actually make him sleep on the couch? Only when he has late night pager duty (I do not want to hear the damn thing going off at 3am, no matter how much I love sleeping with the boy). Even then, he usually gets a few hours in bed with me before his shift starts and then makes a hasty exit so as to avoid waking me up in the middle of the night. I’m like a bear. Don’t poke me when I’m sleeping or you’re likely to have your face mauled off.

So yeah, it takes something major to make Kristian sleep on the couch. And, let’s be honest here, if I get really pissed at him, I usually end up removing myself from the situation by grabbing a pillow and heading to the living room myself. And it takes something really major. I think that I’ve slept on the couch as a result of a fight once. Maybe twice. I may be a she-bear, but Kristian is usually patient and puts up with me.

So, I look at his pillow and his sleeping bag and the futon all unfolded and my heart just aches. I know it was just one night and we said our love yous and there were many kisses… but it still feels like I did something wrong by making him sleep out there by himself. I don’t sleep well in the bed by myself.

Of course, the irony of the whole thing is that he came into our room this morning to get his clothes and woke me up anyways. At least there were no snooze buttons or broken ribs involved. I still feel tired though. And guilty.

Somebody stop me before I hit the vending machine.