Thursday, June 20, 2013


So, last night I didn't sleep >_< 

I'm not kidding, I was up until 6 AM --> as in, I saw the sun go down and up. It was insane. I eventually resorted to watching How I Met Your Mother because I was going crazy just laying there tossing and turning--and then when I'm finally able to fall asleep, I'm awoken at like 9:45 by my dog who wants to go out. 

No big deal, right? Puggedy poo needs to tinkle, it happens--despite my exhaustion, I roll out of bed and trudge my way towards the patio and let him out to do his business. I have to stay out there with him, or else he starts barking bloody murder, of course, but that's life. 

My dad put a rocking chair out there, so I settle in and brace myself for the inevitability of picking up a present or two when he... does his business? no. Chase a cockroach (we live on the Caribbean, those things are everywhere) I need to squash before it gets into the house? No!

Hey stretches out on the little ramp that leads from the front door to the patio and starts to chillax. 
Now, had this been a different set of circumstances, that wouldn't have mattered, and I would've left him out there to meditate his brains out 

Here's the thing, though --> he's been doing the same thing all flipping week! 
He walks back and forth throughout our apartment (and we have tile floors >_< ) going clack! clack! clack! clack! and then puts his front paws on my bed and wakes me up and stares at me with those big sad Pug eyes and makes me think:
  Hey, Pugsley needs to go out, this is a legitimate reason for me to crawl out of bed despite being exhausted after working my eyes and brain into a pulp staring at my computer screen for school until midnight ...

And I can't keep him inside, because I'll be worried about him dropping a bomb somewhere, leading to the inevitability of me having to clean it up--which would keep me from sleeping, which destroys my purpose of staying inside to sleep some more in the first place. 

So, I do what I always do--I haul him back inside and crawl into bed.
But, guess what? My landlord shows up and wants access to some super secret closet thing she's had under lock and key since we got here (and did I mention that she up and decided that she needs us to move by the end of July despite an agreement that was supposed to end in December) to find some very important papers that she decided to toss into closet full of old clothes, bags, and miscellaneous trinketry.

Apparently I'm not meant to sleep more than three and a half measly little hours.

Forgive me for being a little cranky, I've had a bad week...

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