>The Twat is driving me mad. He comes to bed late but must sleep heavily considering the amount of whiskey he drinks each night, and then wakes up at around 4 in the morning – sometimes earlier, sometimes a bit later. When he comes to bed he always manages to wake me up, although not on purpose, and likewise when he gets up.
Yesterday’s unwelcome visitor to our bedroom was of no help whatsoever so as of 3am I was plagued by the sounds of a kamikaze mosquito trying to trick me into thinking that it was really a balmy night in the middle of the summer rather than early November. The Twat was downstairs watching TV while I was doing my usual when in the company of a mosquito: trying to hide from the fucker until I fall asleep again only to get bitten. But as usual, hiding under the duvet means getting too hot, so I threw the cover off me only to hear that horrible droning sound somewhere near my ear. After several alternations between being totally covered up and totally uncovered I finally fumbled my way to the bathroom and groped around for my glasses. Ready with a blurred sense of sleepy vision, I turned on the light and lay still clasping a large piece of heavy cloth.
This trick used to work but it was obviously a mosquito that had visited previously – or my eye-sight is so bad these days that I never saw the damn enemy. The trick is that once the light is on, the mosquito is attracted to it and so will go near the light while you lie deathly still with a weapon. As soon as the mosquito alights on the wall, wait a tiny bit and then thrash it to death.
And this used to work.
But mosquitoes are quite savvy these days and you need more than a light and a piece of cloth to get rid of one.
So when the Twat came upstairs to find me lying deathly still on my back wearing my glasses and clutching a kimono (a kimono is sufficiently heavy to kill off a mosquito, trust me) and with the light on, he asked if everything was alright.
“Does it look like it?”
“No, Hon, why don’t you go to sleep?”
“Because there’s a fucking mosquito in my bedroom.”
“Ah.”
He went into our ‘office’ and started typing madly while sipping coffee.
At around 6am I decided to join him. I wasn’t going to get any sleep, so he made me a cup of tea as I read the online news, then showered and left the house in the direction of the dole office before even he left for work.
I always thought that the older you get, the more sleep you need. With the Twat it appears to be the other way around and I’d be fine with that – if only he didn’t wake me up each time he entered or left the bedroom.
Insomniacs rulezzzzzz…..zzzzz.
