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The other day I was reading Linda's post about her extreme, 3 a.m., bloody nose. I was aghast at the lack of sympathy or sensitivity shown by her husband! How dare he crack an eye, mumble a pseudo sympathetic "ok honey?" and roll over. Where is the love? Men! It put me in mind of something that happened in my own bedroom several years ago and it made me laugh out loud. Sorry Linda, I'm not laughing at your distress, much.
Let me say first that I take my sleep very seriously. If sleeping were an Olympic event, I would have gold medals lining my walls. I need sleep and I enjoy my slumber. My husband is one of those obnoxious early risers, you know the sort, up and at 'em, don't want to waste the whole day! This at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. It's like living with the Al-Quedha or something. My husband is kind and thoughtful. He is also wary of waking me unnecessarily. It is rumored that I will lash out like a trapped animal at such times (ridiculous).
So, we went to bed at our usual time, the alarm was set for whatever ungodly time we had to get up for work and all was right with the world. Kiss, kiss, love you, snuggle, lights out. At this time we had a large, orange tabby cat and she was in her place, sharing my pillow. Sometime during the night Kitty was feeling restless or she heard a fly buzzing or something and leaped out of the bed by way of the launching pad that is my husband's face. Those back claws dug in and gave her really good traction! There was shock and surprise and pain and blood and a very pissed off man and he made not a sound. He did, however, chase the cat out and close the bedroom door. He cleaned his face up as best he could and came back to bed.
The next morning he woke me up as the alarm went off for the fifth time (I never hear the alarm...ever) and I opened my eyes to see my husband who looked like he just barely survived the Nazi invasion! WTF? He didn't look like that when we went to bed! Where the hell have you been all night? What in the world have you been doing. That is not a stubbed toe that you might get in the middle of the night. Dried crusty blood was all over the sheets and pillow case. There were crumpled bloody tissues in the bathroom! Twilight Zone stuff! So he told me the story of what "my cat" had done to him while I slept soundly. Oh, my poor Honey! Hey, thanks for not waking me.
Let me tell you, if that had been me acting as the unwitting launching pad it would be a whole different scenario! The whole neighborhood would have been awake as I screamed and the ambulance came flashing and honking down the street! Gawd love him.
Oh, Kitty was banned from our bedroom for quite some time after that incident. She wasn't happy about it but my husband took perverse pleasure in slamming that door just before she slid in every night.
The picture, above, is not my husband and this is the best representation I could find. I didn't take a picture of his night time war wounds because I wasn't a blogger then. Now, however....well you know.
