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[insert string of random profanities here]
I need my sleep. It's not just a nice thing to have - it's a requirement. I require a certain amount of sleep in any given week in order to restrain myself from randomly bitchslapping people and having meltdowns when someone looks at me the wrong way.
So lately, given that I am home for about 7 hours a night, my ability to get the sleep I need is dwindling. 7 hours would be more than enough sleep for me on any given night, but this 7 hours must now include my wind-down time, a shower, etc., etc.
Tonight, my precious 7 hours (delightly closer to eight this time!) included too little sleep:
- 12:16 am - drag myself off of msn, try to go to sleep
- 12:38 am - get up, tinker with the toilet tank, which mysteriously won't stop running
- 12:44 am - realize that all of the little tricks that I have been taught to fix a running toilet are blatant lies
- 12:45 am - go back to bed
- 1:30 am - sleep
- 5:51 am - strange buzzing sound - not enough to quite make me conscious
- 5:53 am - buzzing continues. my UofA Fire Marshall instincts finally kick in, and I reach for my old hardhat and prepare to bang on doors
- 5:56 am - not yet having managed to get out of bed, I know concentrate on whether or not I can smell smoke
- 5:57 am - decide that the fire alarm in my building is actually quite pleasant compared to the horribly screechy, so-loud-you-can't-think alarms of buildings past
- 6:00 am - the fire alarm proves victorious and I roll of out bed
- 6:03 am - intense internal debate as to whether or not to go outside, or just risk being burned alive in exchange for staying in bed
- 6:04 am - stick my head in the hall...no smoke/noise/cleanliness of any kind
- 6:06 am - firetrucks!
- 6:07 am - sweatpants or jeans?
- 6:08 am - sweatpants
- 6:09 am - pack up purse (must! save! blackberry!), lock door
- 6:11 am - cold. but at least it's not the -9 billion that it has been all week. be thankful for the small things
- 6:13 am - more firetrucks (6, to be exact)
- 6:17 am - bitch with large group of girls, christen the 6th floor as the "boob floor"
- 6:19 am - somebody official-looking (building security? police officer?) walks around with a giant rottweiler. a bomb-sniffing dog perhaps?
- 6:20 am - firefighters are everywhere (and totally hot, but that's another story), but don't seem to concerned. we decide that, if something was wrong, they would at least quit sauntering and break into a jog
- 6:21 am - still cold, still chatting with neighbours
- 6:27 am - first firetruck leaves
- 6:31 am - ambulance (when did that get here?) pulls away
- 6:39 am - mad scramble for elevator spaces as we are let back into the building
- 6:44 am - part ways with neighbours, crawl back into bed
- 6:45 am - alarm goes off. fuck.
Liberated at
6:59 a.m.
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