It's hard for me to sleep when I hear a steady, repetitive sound like a loudly ticking clock. Something about the constant, rhythmic noise that makes me almost nervous.
Well, not nervous really, but my head can't seem to let the noise go. It gets to me.
It gets inside my head.
I have no problem with white noise or anything that is continuous. I can fall asleep pretty much anywhere regardless of the decibel level.
Put me on a plane at 6am and I am asleep before take-off.
I once worked selling tickets at the Arizona State Fair and on slow mornings I would doze off to the sounds of kids screaming as roller coasters whooshed around outside my little ticket booth.
Put me in a room with a ticking clock and utter silence though, and I won't sleep a wink. That diabolical little noise will actually exhaust me, my patience and I'll get up in the morning cranky, dreading the day.
Last night the rain started at about 2am. Or at least that is when the dripping noise started. Somewhere outside of my open window a drain pipe was merrily hammering at a nearby trash can. It sounded empty as indicated by the repetitive hollow thudding overtook my brain.
thud. thud. thud. thud. thud.
My sleep addled brain couldn't process it right away.
I thought someone was tapping on a wall or maybe knocking softly at the door. This caused me to come fully awake.
Fully awake at 2am.
I had been asleep for a little over an hour.
Exhaustion was no match for the drain pipe that could.
thud. thud. thud. thud. thud.
I fought a valiant battle on my own, trying to ignore. Trying to get back to sleep for the few remaining hours of the night.
No luck.
At about 3:30 I had a stroke of tired genius.
If I can sleep through loud noises but not tiny ones, then loud noise it is.
While I may have cursed the machine when I discovered how loud it was, I thank the Lord my little Haier window A/C unit drown out the annoying thudding that could be heard even through a now closed window.
Viva la cheap A/C units! Haier, you saved my night.
The happy rumbling soothed my tired brain back to sleep.
The only trouble?
It's now after 6 and I wish I were still in bed....
(But hey, only 9 more days of this monotonous routine to go before it's time to go on an adventure.)
More...
I am not proud of the fact that my cat has decided to employ terrorist tactics in her increasingly fervent pursuit of food.
It always begins the same. A meek and mild meow from the open bedroom door as she happily rubs the sleep from her eyes. Realizing that this polite request for nourishment has been unceremoniously ignored with a snort and a shift of the blanket, her efforts increase.
First escalation brings her to the head of my bed where she begins her kitty parade. Left to right, right to left. Over and over she marches until the desired reaction is reached.
"Damn it Minou! Stop it!" I yell as she happily purrs from her perch on my pillow. Preferably while sitting on the warm spot previously occupied by my slumbering head.
I check the clock and then glare at her "It's 4:00 in the morning, you are not getting breakfast so just stop it!"
This proclamation that 4:00am is not a suitable time to expect breakfast receives no discernible reaction on her part and much cursing and shooing away on mine.
I settle myself and try to get back to sleep not wanting to waste the remaining 2 hours until my alarm sounds. This is unacceptable to Minou and her growling belly.
This is when the terrorist attacks begin.
First she puts her cold, wet, kitty nose up against any exposed flesh and blows. Kitty-snot snipering has taught me to sleep with my head under the covers no matter how hot and humid the weather.
Second, if the kitty-snot has failed to rouse the keeper of the kibble (aka me) she activates the pat and poke portion of her plan (alliteration totally not intended but I'm leaving it because I like how it sounds). She places her paw randomly on my person and begins a staccato flexing and re flexing of her claws until I yelp in pain or shoo her away.
Sometimes I have to shoo her away while limping in pain if the particular portion of my person she chooses to pat and poke is my foot. Specifically the bottom of my foot as it protrudes from the covers. She knows I cannot sleep with my feet covered and she uses this to her advantage. I do not have an Achilles Heel, I have a Kitten Heel (hahahaha or is that only funny to me?)
Anyway.
Now I'm mad at her, she's still demanding food and her petulant cries get louder the longer I refuse to budge.
I can usually fend her off until 6:00 when the alarm rings, sometimes I just get up and feed her at 4:00 for the sake of sleeping the remaining two hours of the night.
Lately I have taken to shutting the bedroom door in a preemptive strike against her particular brand of kitty terrorism. It has worked for me, however poor Meg doesn't have a door to close and conveniently possesses the two things Minou needs - opposable thumbs and knowledge of where the kibble is kept.
I wonder how long it will be before my bedroom door is opened and a fat, furry, hungry missile is hurled at my head to the words of "Feed your damn cat already!"
More...
Father's Day - it hasn't been an easy day to celebrate. Mixed emotions swirl through my heart and head as I remember the man who raised me from a child and the man who loves me as though he did.
My own father passed away 13 years ago. I remember him today for the depth of his love, the laughter in his heart and the patience in his eyes. I remember the hugs he gave freely when returning from a long absence. He was not a perfect man, but he was perfect for me.
I imagine that I get much of my temperament (and admittedly lazy tendencies) from him. He was not quick to anger but, hoo boy, when he finally blew it was of nuclear proportions. I hold him tightly in my heart despite the memories continuing to fade. The pitch of his voice or the exact shade of his eyes are not details I can readily pull from memory any longer. The smell of Old Spice, diesel oil and vanilla that clung to him is easy to recall. These scents will always bring to mind memories of my daddy, for that I am lucky. I will also remember his hands, the hands that were strong and capable, scarred, freckled and gentle.
So, for many years today has been difficult to celebrate. It has passed without any fanfare or recognition. Avoided if you will.
That is, until a few years ago when QotU met her match. Senior Chief came into her life and the sadness that she had resigned herself to (whether knowingly or not) evaporated. Dad was the love of her life, Senior Chief is the love of her eternity. It is clear to see if you only look. They adore each other and where my dad was emotionally unavailable, Senior Chief is generous and not afraid to show it. (Okay, sometimes showing it a little to much for the delicate sensibilities of the daughters standing by Mr. McSmoochy-face.)
He brought her happiness, and that makes me happy. They married and though I didn't know him that well, he welcomed me with open heart, home and arms. He put the happiness back into more lives that just mom's, he became the dad we were missing.
There is room for these two men to exist harmoniously in my heart. Loving one doesn't mean disloyalty to the other.
One is my daddy. The man of my youth who ate hot peppers, could fix any vehicle with duct tape, pantyhose and sheer will (seriously, I get my MacGuyver-esque tendencies from him) and was calm to the point of comatose. He shared my childhood adventures with me and will always be treasured.
One is my dad. The man of my adulthood who has accepted me as I am and calls me one of his brood. He is a gun collector and history buff who loves his family without hesitation. He will share with me the adventures yet to come in my life (and there will be lots, I'm sure).
More...
It's the sound of nothing...
no blogging...
no writing...
nothing...
I don't like that sound much, but it has been nagging me pretty constantly for the last several weeks.
I started this blog four years ago. Okay, four years and 3 days ago.
As my bloggaversary approached I was hessitant, blogging has always been a way for me to keep in touch with friends and family scattered hither-thither and yon. (What does that even mean??? Sometimes I wonder about me.)
I have blogged about the fluff of life, the happy times and touched on the sad ever so briefly. I never really turned my whole heart to blogging. I haven't embraced the blogosphere with open arms, giving fully of myself for the world to see.
The posts that go unwritten contain the 'real' me and I am afraid of rejection or accidentally hurting someone I care about. Words are easily misinterrpreted and my policy heretofore has always been "don't go there" and I have happily complied.
Reading past posts, to me, they seem hollow even shallow at times. Because the true depth of character is never revealed.
Recent events, and the burgeoning opportunities they have wrought, have changed my mind about this disconnection, this holding back. This self-censoring for the preservation of an image I am not certain I even want to maintain.
I am not perfect, my life is far from ideal. I am an eternal optimist and romantic; cynical and hopeful in equal measure. I swear like a trucker unless I'm swearing like a sailor and when I really get riled up I swear like my grandmother. I try to keep a civil tongue but sometimes, there is only one word to adequately express the situation. In deference to my most loyal reader (Hi Mom!) I will refrain from using it as much as possible, but I cannot promise this same delicacy in the future. I envision my rating is going to change from it's current PG status to something closer to PG-13, maybe. (Fore warned is fore armed, right?)
Right.
So, here's to another four years of ranting and raving like the lunatic that I am!
PS. There is more change afoot here at KTofI. More than just content and committment, I can't say much right now, but it's coming..... *giggle*
More...
So, everything is official.
My departure has been announced and interviews for my replacement have been scheduled to begin next week.
~whew~
I have enjoyed working with The Company and will miss the many friends I have made, but it is clearly time to move on.
I know this because the second I handed in my resignation, the very second, the stress and misery that has plagued me for a very long time evaporated.
It was like cracking open a ziplock baggie full to bursting with steam. Instant relief.
The Company and I had gone back and forth, searching for compromises that would make both parties happy. The options just didn't mesh; my departure was, for me, the only option that allows me to retain my sanity (or what's left of it).
So I am moving forward.
The paths available to me lead in every direction imaginable.
I could find another position, with another company, that is the natrual progression from my position with The Company. Continue moving from A to B to C.
Maybe.
I could also venture into new, yet undiscovered, career oportunities. After all, I am the girl who went from waitress, to retail manager, to administrative assistant, to floral designer, to wedding coordinator, to hotel manager, to service coordinator. I have an eclectic and unique skill base that is applicable over a wide variety of professions.
Then again, I could become a Dog Walker. I hear they make phat cash in Boston.
More...
There have been posts before where I've detailed the changes taking place in my life - where I've discussed decisions that I've made... and well.. here's another on to add to this growing list.
I just resigned from my job.
I know! "In this economy?!?" is what most people are saying. To that I reply "Why not in this economy?"
There are tons of job seekers out there. From the ambitious young college graduate to the displaced CEO, there are thousands looking for the perfect job. They send their resume's to head-hunters, staffing agents and HR departments.
They are looking for the big $$, the stability of an 8am to 5pm, Monday through Friday, three weeks vacation, holidays off, 401K, insurance type of stability.
I've had that. I've been the corporate slave for longer than I like to admit. I've helped a select few become very, very rich while I have become a hollowed-out shell of my former self.
Now I want to have a job that I enjoy. I want to have fun in my life while I am young enough to do so.
Maybe I'll be a dog walker, or a waitress at an all night diner. Maybe I'll go back to floral design part-time or start doing some photography.
One thing is for certain - I've refocused my life.
It's all about the journey, not the destination. I'm not going to save money thinking about tomorrow while I spend all of my today's in an unhappy state of misery.
I'm going to stop making plans to have a life and start having a life.
I will no longer endure today with that illusive carrot of future happiness.
I look back and think about the good times. The surprise trips to Phoenix. The surprise trip to Europe. The vacations camping. The road-trips with family. The hilarious wedding flower mishaps (or down right disasters).
I can't help but wonder what else is out there for me, waiting to be discovered. Anticipating the moment when enough is enough and I finally get off my butt and pursue what I want to pursue.
Today is my life, what I do today will be my memory tomorrow. So far I have wasted a good decade (or more) of my life droning on behind a desk hoping for something good to happen tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
So, with that said, if you know of any unique opportunities that you'd like to share I am all ears!! (Because, sadly, I am not independently wealthy and do need to earn enough scratch to pay the bills)
More...
Posts
