- I am certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there is an axe murderer in the hall closet. Axe murderers love my hall closet. They have actually constructed a secret passage into the hall closet that bypasses our house security system and can be accessed by pressing a hidden button on a whomping willow 30 feet away (What's up all you Harry Potter dorks who got that reference??) In general, when the axe murderers arrive, I will alert my dear husband, who will arm himself with something like a vase from Ikea and go patrolling the house in his pajama pants, throwing open doors and calling back to me "No bogeyman here!" (We have yet to catch any axe murderers, but he DID once catch some people trying to break into our house...he did not use the vase on them.)
- I suddenly realize that some Important Paperwork has to be mailed, um, tomorrow, and I can't remember my husband's social security number for the life of me (as if I ever knew it), and I have to have it so I can drop this at the post office first thing, and I cannot possibly go back to sleep until it's finished and ready to go. And then, since he's up anyway and all, I ask him when our car last got an oil change, because I feel like it's been a while since we did that and I don't want to break down on the way to the post office or anything, and that reminds me that the movie we got from the library is due and can he please think and tell me where it might be? The fact that my husband has not left me after four and a half years of crap like this is probably the best evidence I have that he really, really loves me.
- There are Unidentified Noises in the kitchen. UN can usually be attributed to the cat, but have also been attributed to the faulty balancing of our crap on top of the microwave, or to the ghost that used to live in our bathroom. (Um, shout-out to Jesus, to whom I am eternally grateful for making the ghost leave. So now our bathroom is officially un-haunted.)
Of course, I could not fall back asleep; I just laid there for like half an hour wondering whether I should pierce my nose. (Probably not, right? I mean, wouldn't it be a pain whenever you have a cold, and I have had a cold for like the last 800 years. The only thing is, I would look really cute with a pierced nose; you can't even argue with that.)
I've found that the best remedy for insomnia at 2 a.m. is to watch a movie that wishes it was the Bourne Identity but isn't. Netflix has plenty of those suckers on tap. In general, the plot is this: Guy (or very occasionally, Gal) has a normal life for about three minutes before all of the sudden everyone he sees is trying to shoot him, or maybe strangle him if they get close enough. I find these movies incredibly soporific. I don't know what it is: Maybe it's just the fact that all of these movies have exactly the same plot and therefore no suspense. Maybe it's the fact that there is never, ever any character development to keep me interested. Maybe it's just that I find the sound of screeching tires soothing.
Unfortunately, however, just as I was beginning to get really, really drowsy during the scene where the Guy escapes like six people with machine guns in a parking garage, I heard it. The UN.
At this juncture, the Hubs made a classic mistake: He stirred and mumbled something that sounded like "Isamerchabom." Luckily, I understood that what he meant was "Please wake me up to help you solve the mystery of the beeping."
"Honey, what is that noise?" I asked. The microwave? A dying electronic something? The axe murderer, who had given up on axes and decided that bombs were really the way to go?
"It's the smoke detector."
"Oh." I said.
And then, because my husband is the best husband on the face of the planet, he threw aside the covers and went out into the hall, reached up, and took the battery out of the smoke detector.
The beeping stopped. He came back to bed. We both snuggled up, and then....the UN started again.
"Um, I thought you took the battery out?"
"I did. It must be a different one."
"Which different one? Where do we have a different one?"
"In the basement."
So he got up, again. And I swear to you, I swear on the cheap yellow necklace that I recently got at the thrift store and is now my favorite thing in the entire jewelry box, the beeping stopped the second he got out of bed. And started the second that he got back in.
That happened twice. After removing two batteries.
"This is like Chinese water torture," Marc said. Yes. Yes it was.
It was as if a tiny goblin came to our house and kept making the beeping sound whenever Marc got into bed, and then the goblin stopped the beeping and hid in the hall closet the second Marc got out of bed. Seriously, Goblin, best prank ever. I started thinking maybe Marc was lying on something in bed that was making the beeping sound, because it only happened when he was in bed.
So we decided to do what any logical people would do in such a scenario, and get ourselves some cereal.
Also, I finished the movie. It ended like they always do.