Most of my insomnia is due to over-thinking things -- my brain seems to get stuck in a dream loop trying to process some sort of stress, and it doesn't know how to move forward so it just sends a signal to wake me up. This is usually during exams, new jobs or moving to London...
And sometimes it's allergies (a sneezing fit which often wakes up the Canadian -- this really makes him happy) and other times it's a 'tummy-ache'. It was this stomach-ache that awakened me to a domestic disaster of epic proportions.
It was Halloween weekend of 2010 (just a few short months ago...) and the Canadian, the Rotten One and I were living in our tiny condo in New Orleans. My smart friend J had come for a visit and after we picked her up from the airport we needed to swing by the pet food store to get the Rotten One some food. We usually get her some bones as well but they didn't have the usual brand, so we grabbed a different brand...
The next day the Canadian had to leave town but decided to give the Rotten One the bone before he left (which she promptly polished off) and smart friend J and I went out to a fancy dinner. That night I put the Rotten One in her crate because she kept trying to wake smart friend J up in the middle of the night, the night before. Smart friend J and I went to sleep.
About 2 in the morning I woke up with a horrible stomach-ache because I had thought it would be a good idea to eat a lot of rich food and then go to sleep. I was being very quiet (because our condo in New Orleans was quite tiny) to try and not wake up smart friend J. I also didn't want to turn on any lights....I just wanted to quietly see if I could make a cup of peppermint tea, drink it, and go back to bed.
I stealthily walked into the kitchen to make the tea and smelled something funny...
At this point I couldn't identify it...it smelled weird and kind of like infected bleach (if that is a smell)...and so I just kept on making my tea in the dark because I felt awful and exhausted and just wanted to get back to bed. I finally walked into the living room to sit on the couch and drink my tea and at this point, from the light on the street, caught a glimpse of the cause of the smell...and it was *very* VERY VERY bad.
The Rotten One had...*ahem* relieved herself of the contents of her entire body from -- shall we say -- both ends of the spectrum. I slowly sank onto the couch. At this point, I couldn't ignore it, but my friend was in the bedroom and I didn't know how to clean it without waking her, aside from the fact that my OWN stomach was in major turmoil.
So, in the true spirit of someone about to move to England -- I drank my tea first. And then I proceeded to clean.
The bottom of the Rotten One's crate was removable and it had quite a bit of...let's say 'opportunities for cleaning'...and normally most people would take it outside and hose it down...but I was in a condo, so I had to squeeze it into the tiniest of bathrooms and clean it in the tub...which necessitated my also, cleaning the bathtub after the fact.
While I was cleaning the crate bottom in the bathroom, the Rotten One apparently wasn't quite finished...and left me a present on the very nice rug in the living room (two steps away, of course would have been the much easier to clean hardwoods...).
So, at 2 am, with an upset stomach I was fortunate enough to:
1) Clean the crate
2) Clean the walls, floor and furniture around the crate
3) Clean the bathroom and scrub the bathtub
4) Scrub the rug
5) Take the Rotten One down to the 3rd floor so she could go finish off what was left (which, surprisingly there was still more...)
6) Take a shower (because I was covered in it all)
7) Finally get to bed at around 5:30 am
And so, sometimes, when I have insomnia, like last night, I think...at least I'm not cleaning up the Rotten One's stomach disasters.
As an aside, I was texting the Canadian (remember he gave her the bone and left town?) "I hate you so much right now"