My mattress creaks likes the door to a haunted house. Quieter. Less spooky. But far more annoying. Reeeeer, ruuuuuuur, reeeeeer, ruuuuuur. In time with my inhalations (reeeeeeer) and my exhalations (ruuuuuuur). Right beneath my ear. Maybe if I shift my head?
Reeeeer, ruuuuur, reeeeeer, ruuuuuur.
No. More like an old lady's rocking chair. Like Norman Bates' mummified mother's rocking chair.
REEEEEER, RUUUUUR, REEEEER, RUUUUUUR.
I breathe more deeply and the creaks grow louder, moaning their confirmation. Yes. An old lady's rocking chair.
The Dog jerks awake, gives a startled half-hearted bark, and begins gnawing on the corner of her doggie pillow. There must be a creaky old lady's rocker inside her bed too. I consider testing her method and chewing on the corner of my mattress, but ultimately decide against it.
Reeeeeer, ruuuuuuur, reeeeer, ruuuuuur. RER!RUR!RER!RUR!
Heh. It sounds funny when I breathe fast.
A train whistle blows in the distance. When the house is quiet enough for me to hear the trains, it means it's late. It means I should be sleeping.
But my head is too full of bother to make room for sleep.
There's been another incident with The Ex, and I need to think about how to handle it. But not tonight. I don't want to think about it tonight. Not on my kid's birthday. I want to think about anything else tonight.
Like how best to define the noise coming from my mattress.
Reeer, ruuuuur, reeeer, ruuuur...
7 hours ago