Jul 1st, 2007
Pillow Talk
This is how it goes down in our house.
To set the scene, it is 10.30am Sunday morning. I and the A.T. are fast asleep in bed. A.T. had been out the night before, and had called me at 5.30am (instead of the arranged 1.30am plan) looking for a lift home. I had politely told him to stick the idea somewhere unpleasant, and told him to wait for a few hours. I got another call at 9.00am, pleading had turned to begging, as the party sounded like it was still going and the sofa was getting sticky. Like I say, an hour later we were both home, back in bed, leaving the children to their own devices.
A.T.’s mobile phone rings.
My brain made my arm reach for the phone to fling it at A.T.
A.T. sits bolt upright.
“Bollocks!! I forgot all about that! Here!!!” he shouts as he flings the phone back at me, still ringing.
“Forgot what? Who is it? Meh?” I wake up in a groggy haze, trying to remember what day it is and where I am. A.T. is fast asleep again.
“Hello!” I say in my brightest ‘I’m wide awake, I swear!’ voice, while simultaneously trying to regain control of an escaped contact lens.
“Hiya, it’s Mellissa, are you coming over later?”
I give A.T. a dig. Thus follows a double conversation, one half mumbled from a pillow, the other being the phone inquiring about the day’s plans. I get confused at this stage, and a heap of verbal diarrhoea follows. The speech function of my brain is only booting up at this point.
“What? Yeah, sure!” I say. “He mentioned..is… um yesterday.. but he forgot to tell.. what? Yeah. I mean yeah because I’d… I’m not sure.”
“….birthday…” The phone said.
“What? I forgot. Oh. What? Birthday did you say? Nobody didn’t tell me. Well he did but I forgot. Sorry. What?” With every word followed a little ‘D’OH!’ noise in my head.
*Got to regain control of brain*
Luckily though…
“Hello? The signal’s very bad, I can hardly hear you! Can you hear me?” Then followed 5 minutes of “Hello?, Hello?, Are you there?!?!” Until I ran in the semi-nip to the front room thus giving the neighbours an unneccesary eyeful over breakfast. Mobile phone reception improved instantly.
“Did I wake you up?” The phone enquired politely.
“Fu.. I mean God no! Sure I’ve been up for hours finishing the ironing!”
“Oh good, so anyway, are you coming to Aoife’s party later?” The penny drops. Daughter. 2nd birthday. Party. Lots of children and chaos with a half-life of six hours.
“Yeah! Of course! When do you want us?”
“4?”
“Sound. Laters!”
*groan*
Back to bed.
Resurface at 1.30pm. Mental slap across own face: No present!!! No card!!!! What do do? Where to go on a Sunday?!?
*Minor panic ensues for 30 minutes*
William Tell’s overture plays loudly in my head as I drive to the nearest town to buy DVDs and Dora the Explorer shoes. Thank you Heatons. You rock.
The rest is a blur of coffee, cocktail sausages, cigarettes and a lot of rain.
I bet I wake up and it’s 10.30am and I’ll have dreamed it all. I’ll run in to the computer to blog about it and find that it has already been written and I am in a parallel universe where computers control reality. Or I’ll wake up and find that I’m really on the planet Zovirax where I’ve been all along.
What?!?
I can’t function without sleep. I’m going mad again.
(I am Technorati’s bitch)