I've yet to have a regular nights sleep on a Friday night. Actually, I've not had a regular nights sleep in a few months due to working at home but on Friday nights it's not entirely my fault.
I wander around the house from couch number one to half-couch number two to the bed to the floor and back again, as monkeys follow the migration path to evict me from one snooze station to another. It's always a tag team operation as well. They've got this search and destroy homing pattern, a psychic bond that tells the other where to find them for maximum effect while stumbling through slumberland. For some reason they think that I am flexible enough to squish like a memory-foam pillow.
Not that I blame them really. My house is just downright uncomfortable at times. It's pretty tiny. Not Japanese apartment size mind you but still not much room for error. As newborn monkeys are able to fit in the crook of one's arm, while thoughts are not intentionally, "What shelf can we stuff the kids into at night?", space wasn't an issue then. (No we didn't stuff the monkeys into closet shelves. They did that later on their own.)
Currently, though, they don't have their own room at the moment. And they are getting bigger. Upon their exodus, their room has become a mass grave of old toys, clothes and boxes of stuff. When I came out of my closet, their room morphed into the closet that funneled in all manner of everybody's unwanted things. This made sense because their room basically is the size of a walk-in closet. I'm not sure I could fit a bunk bed in there even if I wanted to.
It's also had squirrels dig through the ceiling, cryptic messages drawn on the walls, and inside the closet within a closet a warped wall from when the toilet flooded over in the next room over. I'm sure there is peanut butter toast hidden in various places throughout, although I can't prove it. Yet. It's probably what is holding it together.
This room is also missing the doorknob. It fell off with a clunk. As such, I dubbed it, The Black Hole, shut the door tight with one of those ominous vaccuous suction noises that prophets may hear and didn't open it for a good year. Every once in a while I peer into The Black Hole and make sure there aren't vagrants that have set up camp.
On a side note, in typical Saturday morning fashion I awoke to the end of a dream that involved a dog we used to call Misty but instead turned into one that looked like Benji but was called Dingle as she wanted out the back door to go pee and chase the polar bear dog that ran on two legs and repeatedly knocked over my fence.
I'm not sure if this has to do with the fact that this morning I also awoke in the bed that was soaked in... something that did not come from my skin. Or my body for that matter.
I think I shall be breaking open the forbidden seal to The Black Hole soon. If you pray, now is the time, my brethren.
