Why, oh why I ask in earnest…
… and I mean in the earnestly utmost in earnestness…
… do these things seem to happen in pairs?
I’m praying it’s not in threes!
It all began last night…
(cue the flashback music and the weird fade)
“Bye, Stephen. Yeah, probably see you tomorrow. I’ll be asleep by 8:20.”
That’s Dad humor. It was 8:18. I was sprawled on the floor in the bedroom, laptop on the coffee table, legs splayed out, one under the coffee table, one out to the right side, face nearly planted on the keyboard. I couldn’t keep my dang eyes open.
Too many nights of four hours of sleep. Depression setting in with no Blackhawks hockey to watch for the next 147 days
— and then we’ve gotta endure that godawful World Cup of Hockey in Toronto before the real games commence (yeah… and hope and pray that nobody gets hurt while the boys “play for their country.” Before the season? Are you frickin’ kidding me???).
I was a tired, exhausted, sleepy little boy.
I’d already scraped the filthy, protein-rich (oh, and goozhy!) contacts off my eyeballs, so that chore was done. Cats were fed, although they were still protesting outside the castle gates, feigning starvation.
Crawled into bed sometime around 8:30. Kathy was already sitting on her side of the bed, hogging all the good pillows (“here, let me give you your pillows…” uh huh… sure).
And right on cue, as soon as the lights were out, Martha calls her.
Why is it, when someone is talking on the phone in the bedroom when the lights are out,
(and who else might be in the bedroom with the lights out? Again, I digress…)
… it seems like they are using a megaphone?
Pillows slammed against my ears, to no avail. As the seconds ticked by, I was feeling more and more wide awake.
Then, my poor tummy. No apparent reason, my stomach started aching something fierce. Not sure why. Body probably wasn’t used to me being in bed before midnight. The only plausible explanation.
At some point, I did manage to forget about the tum tum. Or perhaps the agony took its toll and made me pass out.
I woke up, wide flippin’ awake, at 3:05 AM. And it wasn’t even nature’s call.
Oh, I’m sorry. Too much information?
Wide awake. I must’ve fallen asleep sometime around 9, which meant that I got my six hours of sleep. On a good night, that’s usually all I get. I have a real hard time sleeping longer than six hours.
I had listened to a webinar earlier in the evening about the Divine Mercy.
You didn’t think there could possibly be a faith tie-in to all of this, did you?
During the webinar, Father Seraphim Michalenko of the Marians of the Immaculate Conception was speaking about forensics work that had been done to determine the approximate time that Jesus rose from the grave and said it was likely around 3 AM.
What else do you think about at 3 in the morning but that? So… of course I was wide awake recalling that he had said that, and knowing that my alarm was going off in less than an hour.
— at 4 AM… Read that? FOUR O’CLOCK A.M. —
I pondered my options.
“Well, I might as well start saying a Chaplet of Divine Mercy. That’ll put me back to sleep.”
I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that repetitive prayer is the best sedative in the world. Cures insomnia. Like that.
See? Just like that.
I started praying.
“Our Father, who art in heaven…”
And then, I must’ve dozed off. I was sure I made it through the first decade of the Chaplet. I started from where I thought I left off.
And it happened again.
“DING ding-ding DING DING….”
(I won’t bore you with the details of the tune.)
OH MY GOD! That’s Kathy’s phone alarm! OH, NO!!!!!!!
I leaped out of bed (that doesn’t happen often any more), grabbed my phone.
IT WAS 5:13!!!
I’m sure a few choice words passed through my lips.
I had 17 minutes to shave, brush my teeth, shower, do other necessary things…
Oh, I’m sorry. Too much information?
… make my oatmeal and feed the cats if I was going to get out of the house on time.
30 (ish) minute drive to Lake Forest.
6 AM appointment.
My morning was slammed. Back to back to back to back appointments. No room for wiggle.
(Wait… that’s not exactly how the saying goes, is it? Hey, gimme a break. I’m still groggy.)
I give myself 90 minutes in the morning. 60 if I am really, really, really, really tired. Like… after a four-hour night. Like most nights lately, actually.
Not this morning. SEVENTEEN MINUTES!
My poor little babies got the short end of it today. Not a lot of TLC from Daddy. But, hey, they got fed (and a little extra food, too, for their inconvenience) and got fresh water. Not a very tidy eating area, though.
And although it took me 27 minutes to get out of the house, the traffic gods were kind (notice: small ‘g;’ play along with me) and I got to my client’s house at just about the same time I arrive every morning.
Threw everything off the rest of the morning, though. Felt a little out of sorts as I went about my business.
And here’s the punch line. After I finished my appointments, sitting in my car, I scrolled through the notifications on my phone.
“You missed an alarm set for 4:00 AM this morning.”
I missed it? Me?
The bloody radio never turned on this morning! Alarm was set properly. The iHeart Radio app never turned itself on.
Fun with smartphones. You gotta love ’em. You gotta hate ’em.
Well, I guess you don’t gotta.
I also gotta set the alarm clock on the good ol’ fashioned clock radio tomorrow.