a random sixty seconds
Who blogs about a random moment? A single minute of the day…and not even one of my own choosing? Someone who’s crazy enough to let a bunch of writers, Hell bent on my destruction, choose the blog topic, that’s who.
Right…it must be Wednesday…the challenge blog.
I swiftly hit the snooze button on my mobile phone alarm for the sixth time since it went off at nine-fifty. I didn’t want to wake the dog. My ability to nap is directly dependent on letting sleeping dogs lie. And I definitely wasn’t ready to be awake yet.
The phone was clutched in my hand and tucked under the pillow the way I do most every night in my bed. But I wasn’t sleeping in my bed. I was stretched out on the leather sofa. Why? He was snoring on the floor beside me.
I make no secret of the fact that I burn my candle from both ends. It’s how I roll. Sure, I’m tired all the time, but writers need quiet to hear the voices, and in my house the only quiet is found in the wee hours of the morning. So I sit up writing, my dog dozing at my feet like a silent guardian, defending me against the occasional moth or spider…or bowl of potato chips…that may wander by.
Potato chips don’t really wander you know…but they do get spilled on the floor. I’ve decided it was some sort of a sign…whether it was a sign shouting, “Stop eating chips!” or if it was a sign reminding me to sweep the floors daily because, “You never know when you’re going to be eating potato chips off the hardwood!” I may never know…my furry defender dispatched them before I had a chance to decide.
But all good things must come to an end, and a marathon writing session is no different. Sometime after three, I tip toed off to slip into my bed after a long night of making things up. Just moments after my head hit the pillow I was on my way to dreamland.
Too bad I never made it past the half-way point.
One enormous paw to the gut followed by one giant tongue across my entire face and a series of whines and groans later, I was shining the backlight of my phone into the face of my 17 month old Mastiff, Indiana Jones. I tried to let him out. I attempted to get him a snack and a drink of water. But it quickly became evident what he wanted.
Which is why I was sleeping on the couch when the alarm went off at 10:52 this morning…after less than six hours of sleep.
Go ahead, call me indulgent. Tell me I’m spoiling him. But sleep is sleep and my couch is amazing!
Until the next time…I’ll be rethinking this whole “challenge” blog thing. (Comment if you want more!)