I love Thursdays. The end of my four-day work week. An evening with my love. Plus, we get to sleep in on Friday mornings. Ahh...
This week, though, things are different. I have to work tomorrow (p.s., at this point it's closer to 'today' than 'tomorrow'); there will be no sleeping in for me tomorrow morning.
So I was a bit perturbed when I found myself in bed, unable to drift peacefully and easily off to dreamland. A quick sensory scan of myself and my surroundings, and I found my thighs ablaze, the ten-billion-BTU-radiating dog laying (lying?) right next to them.
I know what you'll say: "just kick the dog off of the bed!" Easier said than done, I promise you that. Because this dog
...might look small and veasy to kick off of a bed, trust me: he's actually anything but that. It took a great deal more physical energy than I wanted to expend at that time to get that creature out of my immediate vicinity where he had heated my legs to beyond what I would consider even slightly tolerable.
Bam. Gone. Certainly now I could get comfortable enough to sleep. I was still hot. I tried one foot out: not enough. A foot and an arm: still not enough. A leg and two arms: nope. Nothing worked.
Frustrated, I changed positions. Then pillows. Then I moved out to the couch. I've been here for ten or fifteen minutes, and it hit me.
Diet. Coke.
Caffeine at 4pm doesn't make for a very restful night, at least for me. It's a mistake I won't soon forget, or repeat. It was the first soda I'd had at work in a month or more, but now that my desk drawer once again holds at least a half dozen of them, I'll be more careful. MUCH more careful.
This week, though, things are different. I have to work tomorrow (p.s., at this point it's closer to 'today' than 'tomorrow'); there will be no sleeping in for me tomorrow morning.
So I was a bit perturbed when I found myself in bed, unable to drift peacefully and easily off to dreamland. A quick sensory scan of myself and my surroundings, and I found my thighs ablaze, the ten-billion-BTU-radiating dog laying (lying?) right next to them.
I know what you'll say: "just kick the dog off of the bed!" Easier said than done, I promise you that. Because this dog
...might look small and veasy to kick off of a bed, trust me: he's actually anything but that. It took a great deal more physical energy than I wanted to expend at that time to get that creature out of my immediate vicinity where he had heated my legs to beyond what I would consider even slightly tolerable.
Bam. Gone. Certainly now I could get comfortable enough to sleep. I was still hot. I tried one foot out: not enough. A foot and an arm: still not enough. A leg and two arms: nope. Nothing worked.
Frustrated, I changed positions. Then pillows. Then I moved out to the couch. I've been here for ten or fifteen minutes, and it hit me.
Diet. Coke.
Caffeine at 4pm doesn't make for a very restful night, at least for me. It's a mistake I won't soon forget, or repeat. It was the first soda I'd had at work in a month or more, but now that my desk drawer once again holds at least a half dozen of them, I'll be more careful. MUCH more careful.
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