It's pouring down rain, and I had to turn the heat on.
I don't know what happened to me but I am sleeping in until 10-11 every day. For like 4 days straight.
Apparently I am 20 again. Sweet.
Oh good. Lil Wayne is out of prison. I have spent so many sleepless nights worrying about that guy. You know, because he has face tattoos. Not just one or two either, like 20...and they all look to be done with some form of Bic pen and a knife.
So, I spent most of last night tossing and turning. Why? Because of Cha Cha's fucked up job. When I talk about his job, I cuss. Especially when it's this job. So, Chad jumps out of airplanes. That sounds AWESOME right? Wrong. It was cute when we were both like 26. When landing didn't mean hours on a frozen bag of peas and me inspecting his groin for signs of a hernia. It was cute when I didn't have his child chillin' in my front seat. (that's what I am calling my uterus these days) Now, when I think about him jumping, I think about things like pushing a stroller and a wheelchair at the same time. Then I think, well that would just be stupid. I could just get a double stroller and Chad could just squeeze in and shut the fuck up. But, STILL way not cool.
It would be different if it was an every day occurrence. No, it really wouldn't. But, they have them do this every 3 months or so. That's a lot of time to forget how to do something. After 2 months I forget my own Meatloaf recipe and that doesn't entail me jumping out of a plane at 500 ft careening towards the Earth. How awesome would it be if there were a new reality show where they made you memorize a recipe and remember it for 3 months, and if you couldn't remember it they would just push you out of a plane?
When I am trying to sleep on the nights when he has to jump, it makes me think about all the injuries that Cha Cha has sustained while in his current job. When we are both like 92, I am going to be dragging my dirty diaper behind me and changing out Chad's drool cup. He will be on all fours on the floor because he is too stubborn to have gotten help, or a wheel chair. Now, I just change out his drool cup and use him as a foot stool. I make him crawl out on the back patio and spray him down with a hose like people do with dogs.
Just so everyone knows. He got up at 4 to go do his "daredeviling" as I like to call it. He got there, stood around for about 3 hours and then was told to go home because it wasn't safe. Ummmmmm. I am pretty sure it is NEVER safe to jump out of a plane. Just sayin.
Now, that I have written this, I will try to locate the smell that had me up in the middle of the night. I went to pee and eat an apple at 2 AM. That's what pregnant women do, I lurk around my kitchen wearing panties and a tank top eating things right out of the fridge thinking about peeping toms. All of the sudden BAM! I smelled dirty locker room. I spent 5 minutes trying to locate what on earth near our kitchen would smell like sweaty balls and gym socks. I am going to take another crack at it.
After I shower.
To ensure I wasn't just somehow smelling myself.
I used to stay up at night worrying about Ken running into a melting-down nuclear reactor to preform emergency maintenance and save everyone else on the ship. Or being cooked by a burst steam pipe (which actually happens several times a year in the Navy). And, of course, every time he has the littlest headache, etc., I am sure it's cancer. And there's no good way to get over the fears. Besides talking about them. ANyway, I'm glad he didn't have to jump and also that you do your midnight eating in the kitchen instead of in bed, like I started doing...
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