I've spent the last three weeks sitting in my parents living room floor for about 22 or 23 hours a day. You'd think this would allow me to accomplish tons of work, writing, etc., but honestly, I'm doing good to watch an entire movie. More on that and an update on Gabby later, though. This story is about what all that time spent in the living room floor does to a person.
As mentioned, I spend my nights (and days) on a twin mattress in my parents' living room. Gabby's on a small dog bed between me and the window. Sadie and my parents' younger dog sleep on the sofa (just above my head), my mom's geriatric dog that they've had since I was in high school sleeps on a blanket next to my mattress, and my mom sleeps across the room in a recliner. (My mom's sleeping in here has nothing to do with Gabby and everything to do with the fact that she had to sleep in it for a few months after having surgery and has yet to transition back to the bed.) And since I've partaken in this arrangement, I've yet to get a full night's sleep. Gabby's steroids make her crazy at night, and my mom and her dog get up to use the bathroom at least twice each.
In other words, it's like the slumber party from hell.
So, two nights ago, my parents' old dog wanted to go outside. I was sitting on the bed working on my laptop, and my mom was already asleep. Despite my best attempts to loudly clear my throat and wake my mom up, she wasn't budging, so I got up and escorted said dog to the fence. I could hear something yelping from the direction of my parents' redneck neighbor's house, and I couldn't tell if it was a dog or a woman. Or just the guy sharing his excitement because it rained that day and the field across from his house was muddy enough to ride his truck, bike and four-wheeler in it until they became an unrecognizable mess. (I don't understand why caking your vehicles in mud is fun, but the people in this particular house do it often.) My grandfather lives next door to my parents, but there's a huge Great Dane that lives between him and the aforementioned rednecks, and he was barking his head off. Honestly, it was a little troubling, but I was too tired to care. I came inside and went to bed.
A few hours later, Gabby woke me up trying to climb over me and I realized that not only had she had an accident in her bed, but she'd smeared it all over her side, so I woke up to clean that up, which woke Sadie up, which woke my mom up, which woke my parents' dog up, etc. My mom got up to go to the bathroom, and I was sitting here, cleaning Gabby up, when all of the sudden I hear gunshots. Three of them to be exact.
At first, I figured the redneck neighbors were shooting firecrackers as this is a fairly common occurrence (when the father is not in jail), but my mom said she also heard it, and it was definitely a gun. A few years ago, I would have told you that my parents live in the last neighborhood where you would hear three gunshots at 3:30 a.m., but given everything that has happened recently (fugitives on the run, redneck neighbors moving in, a string of robberies (see: redneck neighbors moving in), shot and poisoned beloved family pets, neighbors practically having sex in the road, etc.), I'm not exactly surprised. However, I was a bit on edge, and it took me a while to go back to sleep.
So, last night I went to bed around 12:30 a.m., and I was so tired, but in the back of my mind somewhere I was thinking about those three gunshots. The absence of law enforcement and neighborhood gossip told me that unless someone broke into a home and shot everyone dead and no one knew about it yet, it was probably nothing to worry about, but what if those same people were lurking outside our house, waiting to shoot me? I had't showered in days! I hadn't even been in the pool since Monday! I couldn't die like that.
Once my head hit the pillow, exhaustion got the best of me, but about 30 minutes later, something woke me up. I thought it might have been a loud noise, but I'd been dreaming, so I couldn't be sure. I rolled over and looked at my mom, and the look on her face told me everything I needed to know. A loud crash had pulled me form my slumber. Her eyes were wide. I asked what she was doing, and she said she thought she heard something.
"It sounded like it was in the kitchen. Go look!" she told me.
"Um, no!"
"It sounded like someone tripped and knocked over the stool." (She keeps a stool in there for cooking/washing dishes. If you came in the kitchen door and you were not paying attention, you could easily trip over it.)
"Definitely no!"
We established that the cat was outside and all the dogs were still sound asleep (which should have been my first clue that there was no one in the house...), so it was not something or someone that should be in the house. I got up and went to the door that separates the living room and kitchen and peeked in, but I couldn't see the entire room, and I didn't want to.
I went back to my mattress and sat down, and the two of just sat in silence for a while. Finally my mother spoke again. "I think I hear footsteps."
I pointed out that her little dog was walking around, and she said that was what she heard, but after that I kept hearing things myself.
"Is daddy awake?" My dad also takes a few extra trips to the bathroom most nights, so I thought maybe that's what I was hearing.
"I don't think so."
"Well, maybe we should wake him up?"
"Go do it!" she said as if she'd been waiting for me to say this.
I ran into my parents' bedroom and woke him up and told him we'd heard a noise. He jumped out of bed and ran to the porch door and noted that a box was knocked over, but it was empty, so that wasn't what we heard. He went into the kitchen and didn't see anything, so he took a left and went into the dining room. (FYI, the dining room connects the kitchen to my bedroom, another little room, a hall that leads back to the living room and my parents' bedroom, the laundry room and bathroom.) I saw a light come on, and heard a bunch of clattering around. My mother and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. What if he was battling a burglar? Should we call the police? Should I grab for a weapon.
After a while, we hear the bathroom door slam and my dad's footsteps (at least, I hoped it was my dad) making their way back to the living room. He walks in, looks at us like we're stupid and says, "I think you need to buy a new toothbrush."
He went on to explain that the basket of toiletries I keep on cabinet between the bathroom and my bedroom door had somehow fallen off and scattered everywhere, causing the noise. It's got all of my shower stuff, my tooth-brushing stuff, deodorant, etc., and I guess everything survived the five foot fall, but my toothbrush hit the ground, and that's just gross.
Oh well. At least I'm not murdered.
As mentioned, I spend my nights (and days) on a twin mattress in my parents' living room. Gabby's on a small dog bed between me and the window. Sadie and my parents' younger dog sleep on the sofa (just above my head), my mom's geriatric dog that they've had since I was in high school sleeps on a blanket next to my mattress, and my mom sleeps across the room in a recliner. (My mom's sleeping in here has nothing to do with Gabby and everything to do with the fact that she had to sleep in it for a few months after having surgery and has yet to transition back to the bed.) And since I've partaken in this arrangement, I've yet to get a full night's sleep. Gabby's steroids make her crazy at night, and my mom and her dog get up to use the bathroom at least twice each.
In other words, it's like the slumber party from hell.
So, two nights ago, my parents' old dog wanted to go outside. I was sitting on the bed working on my laptop, and my mom was already asleep. Despite my best attempts to loudly clear my throat and wake my mom up, she wasn't budging, so I got up and escorted said dog to the fence. I could hear something yelping from the direction of my parents' redneck neighbor's house, and I couldn't tell if it was a dog or a woman. Or just the guy sharing his excitement because it rained that day and the field across from his house was muddy enough to ride his truck, bike and four-wheeler in it until they became an unrecognizable mess. (I don't understand why caking your vehicles in mud is fun, but the people in this particular house do it often.) My grandfather lives next door to my parents, but there's a huge Great Dane that lives between him and the aforementioned rednecks, and he was barking his head off. Honestly, it was a little troubling, but I was too tired to care. I came inside and went to bed.
A few hours later, Gabby woke me up trying to climb over me and I realized that not only had she had an accident in her bed, but she'd smeared it all over her side, so I woke up to clean that up, which woke Sadie up, which woke my mom up, which woke my parents' dog up, etc. My mom got up to go to the bathroom, and I was sitting here, cleaning Gabby up, when all of the sudden I hear gunshots. Three of them to be exact.
At first, I figured the redneck neighbors were shooting firecrackers as this is a fairly common occurrence (when the father is not in jail), but my mom said she also heard it, and it was definitely a gun. A few years ago, I would have told you that my parents live in the last neighborhood where you would hear three gunshots at 3:30 a.m., but given everything that has happened recently (fugitives on the run, redneck neighbors moving in, a string of robberies (see: redneck neighbors moving in), shot and poisoned beloved family pets, neighbors practically having sex in the road, etc.), I'm not exactly surprised. However, I was a bit on edge, and it took me a while to go back to sleep.
So, last night I went to bed around 12:30 a.m., and I was so tired, but in the back of my mind somewhere I was thinking about those three gunshots. The absence of law enforcement and neighborhood gossip told me that unless someone broke into a home and shot everyone dead and no one knew about it yet, it was probably nothing to worry about, but what if those same people were lurking outside our house, waiting to shoot me? I had't showered in days! I hadn't even been in the pool since Monday! I couldn't die like that.
Once my head hit the pillow, exhaustion got the best of me, but about 30 minutes later, something woke me up. I thought it might have been a loud noise, but I'd been dreaming, so I couldn't be sure. I rolled over and looked at my mom, and the look on her face told me everything I needed to know. A loud crash had pulled me form my slumber. Her eyes were wide. I asked what she was doing, and she said she thought she heard something.
"It sounded like it was in the kitchen. Go look!" she told me.
"Um, no!"
"It sounded like someone tripped and knocked over the stool." (She keeps a stool in there for cooking/washing dishes. If you came in the kitchen door and you were not paying attention, you could easily trip over it.)
"Definitely no!"
We established that the cat was outside and all the dogs were still sound asleep (which should have been my first clue that there was no one in the house...), so it was not something or someone that should be in the house. I got up and went to the door that separates the living room and kitchen and peeked in, but I couldn't see the entire room, and I didn't want to.
I went back to my mattress and sat down, and the two of just sat in silence for a while. Finally my mother spoke again. "I think I hear footsteps."
I pointed out that her little dog was walking around, and she said that was what she heard, but after that I kept hearing things myself.
"Is daddy awake?" My dad also takes a few extra trips to the bathroom most nights, so I thought maybe that's what I was hearing.
"I don't think so."
"Well, maybe we should wake him up?"
"Go do it!" she said as if she'd been waiting for me to say this.
I ran into my parents' bedroom and woke him up and told him we'd heard a noise. He jumped out of bed and ran to the porch door and noted that a box was knocked over, but it was empty, so that wasn't what we heard. He went into the kitchen and didn't see anything, so he took a left and went into the dining room. (FYI, the dining room connects the kitchen to my bedroom, another little room, a hall that leads back to the living room and my parents' bedroom, the laundry room and bathroom.) I saw a light come on, and heard a bunch of clattering around. My mother and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. What if he was battling a burglar? Should we call the police? Should I grab for a weapon.
After a while, we hear the bathroom door slam and my dad's footsteps (at least, I hoped it was my dad) making their way back to the living room. He walks in, looks at us like we're stupid and says, "I think you need to buy a new toothbrush."
He went on to explain that the basket of toiletries I keep on cabinet between the bathroom and my bedroom door had somehow fallen off and scattered everywhere, causing the noise. It's got all of my shower stuff, my tooth-brushing stuff, deodorant, etc., and I guess everything survived the five foot fall, but my toothbrush hit the ground, and that's just gross.
Oh well. At least I'm not murdered.
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