The Quiet Before the Storm

Am trying to be quiet and not wake the niece up. She came and woke me this morning and asked me to come sleep with her. I asked if she wanted to snuggle. Of course she did. In the most uncomfortable position that I could have to be in for her to snuggle. With her little morning breaths pounding in my face. But I love her. So I laid there til Sweety got up to get the boys and then most gently eased myself out of the bed. And still she sleeps. I'm surprised. Usually she's raring to go at exactly 7 a.m.

I should be sleeping but I just know as soon as I lay down she'll come in here and be ready for breakfast. And I don't want her to find me laying in my bed and think I abandoned her. That happened once and for the longest time if I went to lay with her she would try not to sleep cause she thought I was going to leave as soon as it happened. I don't sleep with her that often. Sometimes just an hour or two after I get home from work on Friday night/Saturday morning. I was reading the paper the other morning at 3 o'clock and she scared the shit out of me by sneaking up on me and just saying a quiet "boo". She's gotten to where she wakes up when I'm getting home and will come out to say hi.

After Sweety gets home I'm going to go exercise and then go to the library and try to find the book about the plague that BB(10) read for his project so I (whoops, I mean HE) can put it in the bibliography. Hopefully the exercise will get me going and I will forget that I'm going on 3 hours of sleep. We still have to go get all the supplies for the school project. Nothing like a little procrastination to get you moving. I work better under panic.

Sweety asked me if $100 would cover my attention to the school project today. I informed him that I need $200 and I want him to cut his arm off and present the money to me in his dead fist. He said that it's for times like this that he married me. And I thought it was because I gave a good blow job. I think I'm gonna ask him to bathe the dog for me as a trade-off.

He is totally grossed out by my idea of using stinky dog fleas to help illustrate how the bubonic plague was transmitted. (I know that rat fleas it caused it but I couldn't catch a rat to comb) I think he thinks people will think we have fleas. We don't. Tasha just has a few. It's not like she infested. She just happens to get to go outside and there are about 1 million flea infested cats in the neighborhood. She's a fucking dog for goodness sake. I told him it's the nature of things for her to get a few hitchhikers. And it just shows how much I love my stepson that I'm willing to search them out and seize them intact for him to carefully press between two pieces of scotch tape.

Forget it. I can't hold my eyes open. I will go treasure what few minutes of sleep I can scrounge before Sylvie gets up.

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