Or not.  It might just be my man snoring as he sleeps.  I was blog browsing today when I came upon a blog by Zoning Out Again – Can A Uvuvla Be Cut Out While Someone Sleeps?  and it brought back memories of nights that border on semi-insanity from the lack of sleep. Sleeping is one of the most important things in your life, sleeping well can improve your life and health, one of the best ways to sleep better is using the best CPAP Mask.

First, I am so glad that I am not the only person who has a semi-glazed look on her face sometimes from a lack of a good nights sleep.

Second, Anthony still swears I’m insane because he’s never heard himself snore.  But he does.  He must be deaf if can’t hear that.

Actually, he was a sport and went to the sleep clinic to get it all checked out after this particular night. The doctor made a few recommendations. Tony’s favorite is a snoring mouthguard; he  made a little joke about contact sports in bed. I blushed so hard, we were still in the doctor’s office!

When Tony and I first started dating, we generally would see each other when we could.  Then we progressed to staying weekends at one another’s house, since we lived nearly an hour away from each other. This guide provides the best practice guidelines on how to install hardie board come primed and painted for your color.

We had went to bed after we had watched a movie and cleaned up the kitchen from dinner.  We lay there all snuggled and quiet when it started.  At first it was just deep, deeep, deeeeeeep breathing.  But after about 5 minutes, it sounded and felt like an earthquake.  After lying there for a few minute and assessing the situation, I realized he would breath in really deep, quit breathing then exhale.  This attibuted to the volume of the snoring itself.

Well, the snoring set off the dogs, which are caged at night.  The two dogs took turns howling and barking.  I got up, opened the door  and they barked even louder.

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So, there I am, in fairly unfamiliar territory, in my PJs, standing in a scary dark hallway with two caged and barking dogs.

I covered my ears and closed my eyes, but when I opened them, I was still there.  It’s not a dream.  He’d snore in really loud, the dogs would freak and bark like crazy.  All of this at 1:30 am.

I made my way down the hall to the couch only to find his son sleeping there instead of his bedroom.  So, I went in his room to find my daughter had called claim on the bed, which is why the boy was on the couch to begin with.

By this time, the symphony of loud snoring and dogs barking was making me insane. I really thought I was losing my mind, since all this racket didn’t seem to be bothering anybody else.

I had no other choice.  I had to escape.  I fumbled around and found my way back to the bedroom.  Somehow I located my purse and shoes by the side of the bed.  I grabbed the small throw blanket from the bottom of the bed and took off.  Back down the dark and scary hallway I went.  Feeling my way along until I made it to the back door.  Yes!  I made it!  This was December and it was cold out.

I found my keys in my purse and got in the car.  I fired up the car, cranked up the heat, pulled the blanket over my me.  No sounds but the sound of the radio as low as it would go and me still be able to hear it.

Somewhere around dawn, Tony realized I was gone, but saw the headlights shining through the livingroom window.  He came outside to find out what had happened, so I told him.

Needless to say, he made the appointment and went to the doctor over it.  He told the doctor he had to fix it or I’d never marry him. So now it’s time for some snoring treatment by Zquiet.

Ain’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard???

A good friend of mine used to say, “This is a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains.” Think about that for a while.

— Coach “Nuke” LaLoosh, in Bull Durham

     Speaking of Rain…

     I am reminded of a man dubbed by Science as a “Quasi Supernormal Incremental Precipitation Inducer…”

     Rob McKeena was a miserable bastard and he knew it because he’d had a lot of people point it out to him over the years and he saw no  reason  to disagree with them  except  the  obvious  one  which  was  that  he  liked disagreeing with people, particularly people he disliked, which  included, at the last count, everyone.

   …

     It wasn’t that he was naturally predisposed to be so surly, at  least he hoped not. It was just the rain which got him down, always the rain.
     It was raining now, just for a change.
     It  was  a  particular  type  of  rain  he   particularly   disliked, particularly when he was driving. He had a number for it. It was rain type 17.

…

     He had read somewhere that the Eskimos had over two hundred different words for snow, without which their conversation would probably  have  got very monotonous. So they would distinguish between  thin  snow  and  thick snow, light snow and heavy snow, sludgy snow, brittle snow, snow that came in flurries, snow that came in drifts, snow that came in on the bottom  of your neighbour’s boots all over your nice clean igloo floor, the snows  of winter, the snows of spring, the snows you remember  from  your  childhood that were so much better than any of your modern snow, fine snow, feathery snow, hill snow, valley snow, snow that falls in the  morning,  snow  that falls at night, snow that falls all of a sudden just when you  were  going out fishing, and snow that despite all your efforts  to  train  them,  the huskies have pissed on.
     Rob McKeena had two hundred and thirty-one different  types  of  rain entered in his little book, and he didn’t like any of them.

…

     And as he drove on, the rainclouds dragged down the  sky  after  him, for, though he did not know it, Rob McKeena was a Rain God.  All  he  knew was that his working days were miserable and he had a succession of  lousy holidays. All the clouds knew was that they loved him  and  wanted  to  be near him, to cherish him, and to water him.

— Excerpt from Chapter 2 of Douglas Adams’
“So Long and Thanks for All the Fish,”
the fourth book in the not-so-aptly-named
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy

     It’s raining cats.

     No dogs, fortunately.

     Dogs tend to cause a lot more damage, mostly because they don’t land on their feet.

     Of course, neither do some cats…

     *shrug*

It’s Monday. In most cases, that would be enough. Not today. Actually my head started to spin around last night thanks to my wonderful, caring EX-husband. But, that’s another story all-together now isn’t it?

No, today (after last night), I decided to:

• Get up early – check
• Drink some coffee – check
• Have a nice long shower – check
• Do my do – check (thank God for Aussie Freeze) – check
• Actually put on some war paint – check

…and be somebody and have a great day…

Yah, right.

I managed to amp up on caffeine, have a shower and look like somebody today. Most days, I go to the office looking scary because who the ever comes in our office? Not a damn soul but the UPS guy and he’s used to seeing me look like something my cat just yacked up.

All is going well, I main-lining my Juan Valdez coffee, I get dressed and look pretty damn good for a Monday, drop my purse and coffee cup on the end table so I can run up to the kitchen and grab my lunch. I get back downstairs, I stick my lunch in my purse, grab my coffee and out the door I go. So far, so good, eh?

Well, not so much because as I hear that click that signifies the door is indeed shut and LOCKED, I realize my damn keys are in the house… Figures, in the past this wouldn’t of been an issue at all since I new all the locksmiths in Osborne Park where I used to live…

“Damn!” I said out loud to myself and the trees. “No biggie. I’ll just call OG and she can pop over and get me.”

It was already 8:30 and since 8:30 is merely a suggested time to get to work, I knew I wouldn’t be able to reach OG for at least another few minutes.

“Good grief. Here they fucking come.” I muttered to myself standing in the middle of the driveway.

THEY are my nosy neighbor and her moppy looking muts. I can’t stand her or them. She’s the one neighbor that everybody has. She knows everything about everybody in the neighborhood well, exepting us, as we avoid her like the plague.

I saw them coming at me, barking like there’s no tomorrow. I looked at the one taking a shit in the neighbor across the street’s yard and looked up to see NOSY in her front yard, yelling “No jump! No jump!” Whatever.
Those dogs don’t understand plain English because they still run and jump all over anybody that has the balls to walk anywhere on our road when she has them out.

I looked her dead in the eye and gave her my “you’re a skank” glare her before I made a snap decision to take off and walk to work.

Off I went, thinking I’d make it a little ways, be away from psycho neighbor and her mutts, I’d get hold of OG in a few minutes and she’d come get me. I try her again.

“Hey. Come get me. I’m a dork, I locked all the keys in the house…”

“Dude,” she said in a solemn tone, “You just take this like a man. But you’re F-U-C-K-E-D.”

I’m automatically assuming some more fresh cooked drama is coming my way.

“I rode my bike to work today.” She concludes. Excellent, no drama, but it appears I’m walking the 6 miles to work today in these friggin shoes…

They are Gloria Vanderbilt and they were expensive. These are the most comfy slides I own. However, I don’t think Gloria had me walking to work in them., cuz after the first mile and a half, my dang dogs were barkin.

I made many personal observations on my trek this morning.

1. I shouldn’t wear silky, thin pants in fall. It’s fucking cold and I might get locked out of the house.
2. I really, really don’t like my neighbor. Her dogs shit in everybody’s yard but their own (trained to do so by their proud owner I assume).
3. Random people who walk along the river in Oak Ridge are super friendly. I suppose I exchanged 10 smiles and at least that many “hello” and “Good mornings”.
4. Our ex’s are never going to go away. They are part of our pasts and we just have to learn to deal with it.
5. I can indeed do two things at once. I can walk and text at the same time.
6. People really do throw some nasty stuff on the side of the road. For example:
   • some dude chucked his Joe Boxer tighties out the window… Ewwwww…
7. There is too much roadkill for a Monday morning…  The count goes a little somethin like this:
   • One disemboweled and half masticated deer (bllluch)
   • Two squished baby skunks
   • A racoon that had just been plowed down
   • A poor bunny rabbit that being eaten by crows
8. Maybe I should go back to the gym.  All things considered, I feel all happy and refreshed after kicking every pebble for six miles.

Ahh, ya gotta love a Monday!

Peace!

After being out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere far south of Eden, I found myself once again in traffic.  There I was in the car trying visit a friend and I get land locked on the north end of town.  Shortly after wading through the mindless meddling of fools of ill repute, I finally found myself at the intersection, full of beavers, creeks, and pikes.

After spending an over abundance of my time waiting… and waiting… I finally found a break in the traffic.  It was the perfect defense as the maroon Ford pickup truck set a beautiful pick right in front of me. I went for it…

Like so many other times the maneuver went off without a hitch.  However I was jarred back to the utter reality of the asshats around me when I recieved a rather impolite HONK from another pickup which was a considerable distance away.  It was only then I rememebred, “The horn blows, does the driver?” Shortly after that the Boy Scout inside said, “Aren’t horns only to be used in case of emergency?” 

So in response, I would like to propose an idiot tax based on infringement of proper horn use.  If you blow your horn (excluding those proper for exposure in the bedroom, especially mine) for any other reason than the aforementioned you should be subject to a fine of $250. This fine would assist in driver education programs designed for those who will be driving in your stead when you injure yourself from your own stupidity.  By no means should you quit driving the way you do once this fine is enacted since theoretically this could eventually create a great excess and could become an education subsidy.

So here’s to you… keep up the driving diarrhea.  One day we’ll clean up this crap, but right now we don’t have the man or woman power. But in our independence filled society I’m sure we can come to a rational conclusion on this issue and that’s my final answer.

     Aside from spending a small fortune cleaning viruses and browser hijackers from your computer after surfing porn sites, there are other, more disturbing dangers of using the Internet to help satisfy your carnal nature…

     Could’ve been worse…