Carole was wide awake at 2am this morning. And then, curiously, so was I. I think the two are unconnected. Carole swears the two are unconnected. But then she also has form when it comes to kicking the living crap out of me for snoring. So the jury is out on that one.
When Carole is awake she is a fidgeter. She can’t stay still, she can’t lie there and not sigh. She has to bounce around, huffing and puffing and making it known that she cannot sleep and, by extension, you also cannot sleep.
What you have to do in this situation is delicately suggest that she pisses off and sleeps in the spare bed. Or lies in the spare bed and reads, or huffs or whatever. Basically, whatever it takes to not have her stopping me sleeping. It’s a cruel approach, but 2am is no time for kindness. It’s a selfish quest for survival and sleep.
I did that.
She went into the spare room, ninja-like. Only stopping to turn on all the lights on the way, noisily drink from a glass of water she’d taken to bed that night, noisily bang that back down, bang into her massive hanging thing filled with necklaces and the like, and shut the back bedroom door.
I went back to sleep and so, by all accounts, did Carole.
At 5am I was rudely awoken by two things.
Note, it was me that was woken by these things. Not Little Miss Can’t Sleep. She was sleeping. And I know she was because otherwise one would hope she would have done something about one of the things that woke me up.
Her fitbit was under the bed in our bedroom. She had not been wearing it for whatever reason. A whole day of steps had gone uncounted. We have no accurate records of how many flights of stairs she had been up or anything. What is even the point of Tuesday if we can’t account for it statistically.
So, the bastard thing started vibrating frantically. I assume, from looking at it, that it was a low battery situation. Because obviously, when you’re low on power, the main thing you do is use more power than you have used up to that point by vibrating frantically. And numerous times.
And then there was the sound of a cat scrabbling at something and meowing.
Because Peppa was shut in the back bedroom with Carole and unable to escape. She’d obviously pottered in during the night and curled up under the bed, or on the window sill, as she is prone to do and when she came to leave Carole was in there, and had shut the door (primarily to keep Peppa out).
I had to get up and free her, all while the fitbit is buzzing away like an epileptic bee.
And then I couldn’t get back to sleep…