That little unassuming pint of ice cream was only the beginning. I didn't eat much of it; possibly a fourth of its creamy and delicious contents. I was watching Cake Boss and enjoying my evening. I had planned to go to bed around midnight, since I had class the following morning and needed to get up around 7:30. But, funny thing, midnight rolled around and I realized I wasn't tired at all.
I found this odd since somewhere a little after ten I started feeling very ready to wind down. But you know how those marathons on cable are—three, four episodes in a row? I can't say no. So there it was, midnight, I needed to wake up in the morning, but I wasn't in the least bit ready for bed.
So I decided to clean. It was on my list of things to do the next day anyway, and I figured it might tired me out. So I started with my desk, which was an unholy mess. I finished that, got the trash ready to take out in the morning, cleaned up my coffee table. I cleaned the kitchen, put all of my movies where they belong. And I still wasn't tired.
Then I got to thinking...which, no, hadn't occurred to me to do before. And I went to the freezer and opened it up, grabbed the pint and read the ingredients. Surely not, I was telling myself. It's just ice cream.
But there it was. Somewhere in the middle of that list of ingredients that most people probably never look at. Caffeine.
Now, I'm a total Starbucks addict. Hardcore fan. Loyal customer. But for the past six weeks, I have been coffee-free. Trying to get my caffeine addiction under control, save some money, keep my blood sugar in check, cut calories, and so on, and so on. So I hadn't really been drinking any caffeine so to speak. Which is why the little bit of coffee concentrate in Starbucks ice cream hyped me up and kept me from falling asleep.
BLAST! That was totally unintentional. I had been looking forward to going to bed. In the end, I didn't end up actually falling asleep until around 3:30. And even then, it wasn't a very peaceful sleep. I was still kind of wired.
Then, around five in the morning, I realize that my sweet little baby Tucker...is throwing up. In my bed. Under the sheets. Near my feet.
|This is kind of how I feel right now.|
So, it's five. I've had a couple of hours of sleep, maybe. Not very satisfying sleep. And now I'm wiping up chunks of dog barf, trying not to gag, and feeling just awful for my poor little puppy. Tucker had retreated to the living room and was sitting against a wall, shivering. He does this when he knows he's done wrong. And he knew making a mess in my bed was wrong. What he didn't know is I didn't blame him for a second—he couldn't help feeling sick. He thought he was in trouble, so I had to spend some time sweet-talkin' him before he'd settle down.
I stripped the sheets off of my bed. I put Tucker in the kitchen, put up the baby-gate-turned-doggy-gate so he couldn't get out, and brought him his little bed. He seemed to be feeling okay, but I didn't want to run the risk of him throwing up on my sofa. Or the carpet. After I'd relocated him to the kitchen, I relocated myself to the sofa. At about 5:30 I was curled up under my throw, trying to fall asleep again. Several minutes pass and then I hear this loud crashing sound.
I live right behind a Target. And apparently that Target, for some horrible, inhuman reason, has their dumpsters emptied in the morning. This morning it happened to be at 5:45. I wanted to scream. If you've never heard one of those big trucks snatching up a huge dumpster, tipping it upside down, and slamming it back down on the concrete...well, you're not missing much.
They don't always do this so early in the morning, but what's even worse is not only do I have the dumpsters behind Target, but also six—count 'em, six—behind my apartment that belong to my complex; three on either side. So when they do come to pick them up, whenever that may be, it's pretty darn loud. Which is what you'll see if you watch my video. This isn't from this morning, but this is pretty much the usual clatter, clang, banging that accompanies garbage pick-up.
But for some reason this morning, they just had to pick up garbage before the sun was even up. I was not a happy camper. And I had to be up in a few hours.
Instead of getting up at 7:30 like I'd planned, I slept until nearly 9. Then I nearly literally dragged my tired behind to class—Self Defense. Which is fun, sometimes, but the workout/warm-ups she puts us through make it painfully obvious that I'm really out of shape. So I have a hard time looking forward to going to class.
|This is kind of what |
I learned today.
And I have every reason to believe that I'm going to be sore tomorrow. Which is a good feeling, yes, but also...mildly painful.
After class, instead of coming home to take a nap like I so desperately wanted to do, I had to spot clean the barf off of my sheets, toss them in the dryer, spot clean the mattress pad, and spot clean my comforter. All of those I washed, except for my comforter, which is dry-clean only. Yeah, not great. So that'll have to go to the cleaners later. In the mean time, I don't have a spare one so...what exactly I'm going to use as a blanket is up in the air.
So. That was my really not fun day. Which also included finishing the review for my Self Defense exam tomorrow. And studying it.
Here's hoping tomorrow isn't near as hectic.