Tired

I’m ridiculously lazy today.  Completely pooped.  I’d go dine on peanut butter cups for breakfast but I don’t even have the energy to walk the whopping seven feet between my couch and my kitchen.  I’ve had to pee for about 45 minutes now but if I can’t make it seven feet for a peanut butter cup, how the hell am I supposed to walk fourteen feet to the toilet?  I guess I could plan on taking a little rest on the kitchen counter while I nibble on the peanut butter cups building up the strength to forge ahead those additional seven feet.  Then again, it seems unlikely I have the energy to boost my booty up on top of the counter.  That involves something almost like jumping…at the very least hopping.  Again, that just doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me today.

I believe my lack of energy stems from four things.  One, the rainy, overcast day that is slapping my little window with mockery.  Three through four would be the three cacophonous farts that my dear husband serenaded me with over the course of the night, ripping me from sleep and leaving me to bask in the odor of his bowels.

I love the man more than I love peanut butter cups, and I suppose I share some of the responsibility as I did make a thirteen bean stew and proceeded to serve it to him, but I’m not sure my efforts at lowering his cholesterol deserved such a “retort.”

The first…incident…startled me awake but I assumed one of the cats had broken something fragile and irreplaceable or a drunken hummer had crashed into the CVS pharmacy across the street.  So, I turned over and re-positioned to find a new comfy sleeping setup in anticipation of drifting back into joyous slumber.  No, I broke the seal.  Previously trapped below our trusty bedding, the fart itself had not made itself known until I carelessly flopped around unaware of the danger lurking beneath our comforter.  I cuddled up against his sleeping form, arranged the pillow to perfection, and took a deep sleepy breath ready to drift back to my dreams.  Then the smell.  Once released, there was no going back.  Even Simone, my ancient, diva cat who moves for nothing, quickly trotted out of the room to put as much distance between herself and the smell.

The second…eruption…still caught me by surprise.  I heard the cascade of thumps that signaled both cats jumping off the bed and running for cover.  As the cloud of sleep lifted, I remembered the earlier event of the evening.  With dread, I held my breath and held as still as possible.  Fortunately, my arms were already above the covers so I reinforced the seal and smoothed the comforter flat, pushing the toxic air down toward the realm of already stinky feet.  Slowly I sampled a small intake of air.  No contamination so far…I willed myself back to sleep as quickly as possible in the hopes of beating the inevitable release of funk that would occur with Rocco’s slightest movement.

The third…seismic shift…possibly moved the bed three inches from the wall.  The initial burst was so loud I awoke immediately.  However the duration of the fart was so great, it continued on for several moments after I realized what was happening.  The thumps of the cats’ feet were accompanied by the thumps of Elly feet escaping the room and heading for the daybed for the rest of the night.

And therefore, I’m tired today.  I’m sure its just the rain…


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