11:00pm. I’m wiped. I should probably go to sleep now.
*yawn*
11:15pm. I’ll just play a game of Ticket to Ride on my iphone.
*yawn*
11:30. I’ll just play another one.
*yawn*
11:45. Let’s just see what’s on Netflix…
*yawn*
12:15. Oh! Let’s see what my sister is up to now.
*yawn*
12:30. Maybe I need to organize my sock drawer.
*yawn*
1:00. Maybe I should just play one more game of Ticket To Ride.
*yawn*
1:30am. *GARAGE DOOR OPENS*
1:33am. “Hi honey, I’m ho….”
Snooooooooooooze.Â
Without fail, this is what hockey night looks like at our house.
Because, being the control freak that I am, I need my husband to be IN THE HOUSE before I can fall asleep.
I have to be the one to fall asleep first, of course. Don’t even get me started on what happens when he falls asleep before I do, because it involves an excessive amount of poking and plugging his nose and actually forcing him to wake up so I can fall asleep while he is awake.
I don’t even know.
Where does this come from?
I’m wondering if it stems, somehow, from deep inside my messed up psyche, that as a toddler, my Eastern-European Zaydie who moved to Milwaukee to help my mom raise me and my sister used to sit at the end of my bed until I fell asleep. Every single night.
He also basically never ever let me be alone.
He also basically spoon-fed me until I went to school.
See that apple? MINE.Â
Luckily I am capable of eating with my own utensils.
But I still can’t go to sleep alone.Â
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