We got in super-late last night. We left late on purpose – hoping to miss traffic. We did indeed miss traffic, but found ourselves driving through pea soup fog. It was pretty intense.
I had gotten up at 5, and was at work by 7 … so come 9 p.m. when we got on the highway, I just … fell asleep. I was sleeping so fast, and so hard, I didn’t know what was going on when we stopped for gas an hour later. I couldn’t believe we were already at THAT rest stop. Huh? J didn’t even wake up when we stopped, she was so sound asleep. E was listening to a book on her iPod, and was still up and had to pee.
Once we left the rest stop, the attack of the fog began. But I still couldn’t stay awake. Every time I woke up, I found myself in this very surreal world, with glowing lights on all sides – hardly any cars visible. It was scary. And weird. If I wasn’t 1/2 asleep the whole time, it probably would have been fine, but it was scary. So I kept checking in with Beloved, “Are we okay?” or “are you okay?” He said yes, and I would just (involuntarily) drift off again. Just to repeat the whole interaction 20 minutes later.
Turns out I pissed him off. He felt like I was saying “you’re not driving well — why?”
So I got to fall asleep for good at 12:15 a.m. in the midst of an argument over how my concern did NOT constitute needling.
We woke up refreshed, though, and now all is well. My brother came this morning with his ADORABLE baby (which still doesn’t do a damned thing to my ovaries … they’re more than happy with the plan to be cut out and mutilated or whatever else happens to ensure that no more babies come into my womb).
Beloved and I are now doing our cooking tasks … I made cranberry sauce, and he’s making stuffing, and I’m getting ready to peel some potatoes. We are cooking for 20 people, which is not something we’re used to.
The house I want to rent: the landlord had some hang-up, and it’s yanked from the market for now. The real estate agent seems to think we can talk her into the cat. The yanking from the market only helps us, since the more time we have to amass the gigantic* move-in costs, the better.
* My friend at work has started using the word “ginormous” despite the fact that she’s my age. It occurred to me that the word greatly resembles the word that my sister and I used to use for our “down there” anatomy. “Gyna.” I told my friend, “the word suddenly sounds a bit perverted to me.” And she said, “you know what? I know exactly what you mean, I’m not using it anymore.” Am I the only one (well, as well as my friend) who has made this connection?