2AM is Such a Cliche

It’s 2am and I am wide awake. If I had accomplished my dreams of becoming a rock star, this probably wouldn’t be a problem, but I am still an IT peon and I have meetings to go to tomorrow!

I don’t know if it’s something I ate or if I picked up a stomach bug somewhere, but my intestines appear to really and truly hate me. I would tell you more but… well… you know. That would be gross. And entirely uninteresting. Let’s just say that Kristian is going to be really happy tomorrow that there are three bathrooms in this house. And possibly annoyed with me for using the one that is right off of the kitchen.

Although I suppose that anything you have to say at 2am when you’re not out partying like a rockstar would, by definition, be pretty uninteresting.

I take that back.

I can think of a lot of things that one could post at 2am that would be very interesting.

“It’s been 47 hours, but the baby is finally here!”

(Thank God I’m not pregnant)

“I think that I was just momentarily abducted by aliens.”

(I’m not a redneck, so there’s no danger of this ever happening)

“I’m sitting in the hospital…”

(Let us all hope that this never happens)

“I’m so glad that my fairy godmother let me stay out until 2am. Midnight is so four centuries ago.”

(Wouldn’t it be fun to hang out with talking mice?)

Speaking of mice, we have mice. (I’m sick, I’m allowed to have one giant non-sequitur of a blog post). (And, yes, I’m aware that there wasn’t really a non-sequitur). (I’m sick, cut me some slack). Apparently we have health nut mice. Out of all of the food that they couldn’t gotten into, they decided to eat our pita chips. Pita chips. What, the rice krispies treats had too much high fructose corn syrup in them? Good thing the hummus was safely ensconced in the fridge. I wouldn’t want the damn pest to get too comfortable around here.

Sophie killed our last mouse. Well, I assume it was Sophie. Tabitha can’t even kill baby mice… I had to put them all out of their misery when she would play with them at 4am back when I was in college. I hope that Sophie manages to kill this mouse before it finds my secret stash of sunflower seeds and flax oil. Although, the flax oil is safely hiding with the hummus in the fridge. I also hope that Sophie kills the mouse on a day when Kristian gets home first. I had to take care of dead rodent disposal last time and it was not pretty. It involved a lot of hand wringing and cries of “ew ew ewwwww!” Also, jumping up and down. And several false starts with a paper towel.

I debated pretending that I never saw it and making Kristian deal with it when he “discovered” it later that night. But, I decided that would be mean. And possibly unsanitary. And really fucking impractical as the stupid thing was right there in the doorway for all to see. If I had pretended not to see it, he probably would have dragged my ass off to a doctor for a vision test. I probably could have argued that my years of faithful spider disposal should have earned me some sort of credit, but let’s be honest. The man does more for me than should ever be reasonably be expected. My spider removal pales in comparison to the fact that he does all of the laundry and most of the dishes. And the cooking. And the vacuuming. And the lawn mowing. I do, however, mostly handle the ass kicking and the taking of names departments.

It’s now 2:30am and I think that I’m really starting to ramble. In the interest of not having this blog entry used against me at a psychological hearing, I think that I will distract myself from my intestines with some bad tv. Oh Tivo, I love you so.

Good night everybody. I hope that your wee hours of Monday morning are much more pleasant than mine.