So I just had the worst night of non-sleep. I'm not sure what triggered it - exhaustion from the weekend? Withdrawal from whiskey? (It had been almost 15 hours). Anxiety? Pre-menopause? Likely all those things. It started when I was shook from a decent sleep by the sound of the doorbell in the middle of the night. I got up, irritated that the husband didn't budge or offer to check the door and what was going on. As soon as I walked toward the door, I could see the lights of a police car or other emergency vehicle outside of the house. But when I looked out the front window to verify it was an official at the front door, instead what I saw was the entire front yard full of loggers - men dressed in jeans and flannel shirts - drinking and littering my yard with beer cans and liquor bottles. And they were all driving monster trucks and had parked them all over my lawn.
Of course I immediately ran to the phone to dial 911 and as soon as I dialed, one of those loggers hopped in his monster truck and drove it - straight into our house. I was standing in the pantry we've only talked about building and watching the monster truck heading toward me and nothing was making sense - I couldn't speak to the operator - my voice would not work because it was totally stricken silent from fear. But somehow I managed to get the words out - they were broken and high pitched and I was angry I couldn't speak them fluidly or clearly for the operator. And then it was quiet. The person on the other end did not speak or offer reassurance. I stared at the phone wondering how they would know where I lived and to where to send help. Then DUH - of course moron - it's the LAND LINE - they can track that shit. Help will be here soon.
And then I woke up. For real this time. It was a damned nightmare - there wasn't anyone in the yard or at the door. It was the non-existent pantry that tipped me off to the whole thing and likely started pushing my mind out of the deep sleep to a state of consciousness. Loggers. Monster trucks. Why in the hell would I dream about any of these things? I hadn't seen or watched, nor do I even know any loggers. I did read an article about a teenager being killed at a monster truck show over the weekened. We did get a call last evening asking what was going on near our house because a friend had seen lights (but we never saw them nor did we have a clue what he was talking about). It was terribly disturbing though. And then I couldn't fall back to sleep the way I needed and wanted to the rest of the night.
Plagued. By hot flashes. I'm hot. I tear off the blanket and flip the pillow. I'm cold. I cover up. I'm hot. I tear off the blanket and flip the pillow. I'm cold. I cover up. I hear that women go crazy during menopause. It's likely true. Who wouldn't? Loggers. Monster trucks attacking your house. Hiding out in places you have only talked about building. The inability to stabilize your body temperature for more than 10 minutes at a time. It's enough to drive the sanest people over the edge.
The alarm went off at 5:55. I hit snooze and dozed back off. Then, when I awakened again, I was pissed - that damned alarm had not gone off 9 minutes later as it was supposed to - I wondered if the snooze feature was finally shot from having been overworked all these years. I grabbed the clock and held it at arms length so I could see the damend thing - 5:58. Seriously? It had been but 2 minutes and my psychotic brain and body were telling me it had been hours.
Instead of getting straight in the shower as is my normal routine, I decided to blog and drink coffee first this morning. Looking to settle my mind from the trauma of the night. It's not working. I'm still shaking. And when I do get back upstairs to take my shower, the husband will likely quiz me as to why I did not follow my normal routine. And I will have to explain: Because I'm wore the fuck out from chasing loggers and monster trucks out of our yard all night and likely I also have PTS now - no thanks to you - fucker - sleeping through the entire ordeal.
Men. I will find a way to make this his fault. Trust my word.