For days I've wanted to blog about my husband's phenomenal performance in his Ironman race over the past weekend. I've wanted to paint my nails, go for a swim, respond to my tag from Tamara and finish the freaking thankyou cards to our wedding guests (as it's been a month and they are WAY overdue!!!)
But I can't. I have no time. I'm exhausted. I teach after work, then get home just in time to shovel some food down my throat and go to bed.
I need sleep like I've never needed sleep before and it's eluding me. I wake up four times to pee, my stomach gurgles at 3am for a banana with such regularity that I fear I might be giving birth to a monkey. I crawl into bed at 9:30pm and can barely drag myself out at 7:37am.
Right now we are taking care of our next-door neighbour's 105lb Rottweiler. Bella's boyfriend, Dozer. He is aptly named. When I have food, he is there. When I'm trying to get into a cupboard, he's in the way. He drools, he drinks loudly from the toilet. He makes a mess of the food dish when he eats, so that at on my 3am banana-run to the kitchen, I step on dog food kibbles in my bare feet and have to stifle a loud swearing episode. When he paces the hardwood floors at night, I can hear his claws click-clacking along until he finally settles heavily to the floor and lets out a huge sigh. He repeats this over and over again. His owner allows him to sleep in the bed with him, and I am sorely tempted to do the same just to get some shuteye.
Last night we closed the door to our room, which I felt horrible about. This was at 2am when I entered into a brief crying fit because I couldn't sleep. Poor Jason rubbed my back sleepily, my having woken him from restful slumber.
Don't get me wrong. Dozer is a sweetheart. A meathead, yes, but a sweetie. But Bella is so dainty and quiet and slobber-free and I've become so accustomed to her ladylike dog behaviour.
I feel like crawling underneath my desk right now and taking a nap.