Fire Drill

I was running through a field of pansies, it was beautiful; they were swaying in the wind and there was a large willow tree ahead of me.  As I approached a ridiculously tall man wearing a sear-sucker suit dropped out of the tree and pressed an orange button on his lapel.  It made the worst sound; a loud, repetitive foghorn sound. He started laughing and dancing around the tree, I tried to catch up to him but he was surprisingly coordinated for his size.  The sound was horrible, and no matter what I did it wouldn’t stop. I pleaded with the man, I kicked him, I smacked him with the fly swatter that magically appeared in my hand…oh, wait.

Fire alarm!? I deliriously peeled my eyes open and awoke to the disgustingness of ‘middle of the night’ pitch black.  This is NOT what 11am looks like.  No, it’s 3 am and the fire alarm is going off.  This has got to be the worst way to wake up - being shocked and terrified by ragging alarm bells from a dead sleep. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe it’s going off for the third time this week, and at 3-friggin-am!  Although now that I’m awake I’m less annoyed at the guy in the sear-sucker suit, but this alternative isn’t much better. 

I rolled over to asses the damage of the person sleeping next to me….huh…nothing.  Still sleeping, still snoring even! Unbelievable. How is it possible to be a human being with working ears and not wake up to this horrific noise? Then I looked at the end of the bed where my cute little snuggly kitty usually sleeps. BITCH! She’s sleeping too!!! You have got to be kidding me.  Cats hear everything! She hears the elevator doors open at the end of our hallway and knows when one of us is coming home.  These two either have very selective hearing or are taking doses of fantastic sleeping pills behind my back.

In new buildings like ours, there is a small square-like contraption on the wall that indicates when the alarm is going off.  Once both of the two little lights are lit up, you can press them and the alarm will turn off inside your apartment.  The problem is, these little lights are quite unpredictable; it could be 2 min or 20 min until they light up.  So, I stumbled out of bed knocking over my glasses on the side table, hitting my toe on the dresser, and wandered over to this magical spot where I would have to wait. And wait. And friggin’ WAIT!!!

Five minutes of alarm and still no lights.  And let me tell you, five minutes at 3am in the dark is a very long time.  At this point, sleepiness was leaving my general state of mind and I was starting to wake up. Nooooooo!!!! Stay sleepy!!! Don’t wake up yet, you’ll be doomed to toss and turn for 3 hours in bed!! I slumped over and rested my head against the wall, closing my eyes.  Maybe I could keep the feeling if I tried to relax a little.  Oh Jesus, who am I kidding! Who can relax with a piercing death-scream-fog-horn blowing in your ears!?

I hate my cat.

Go back to the pansies, return to the awful tall guy…what was he wearing again? Crap! I can’t remember anymore, it’s happening, I’m waking up.  How do new mothers wake up 16 times a night and still get the required 8 hours of sleep we all need to keep us sane?  I’ll have to ask my friend with three kids about that.

Hey, the dishes from dinner are still on the counter…hmmmm, well I guess I can put those in the dishwasher while I wait.  Oh great, the laundry never got folded.  I supposed I could fold some stuff while I try to induce slumber again.  Eeewww, the cat litter is so gross.  Fine, I’ll change that too. WHAT THE HELL!! I just cleaned my apartment when I supposed to be SLEEPING!!!!

The only thing I can think of is to lie on the floor next to the magic light box and wait from down here.  I’ll just curl up with a blanket, I’m sure I’ll notice when it stops ringing….I’ll be able….to…wake……

I awoke to a slight nudging from behind me.  My boyfriend was waking me up.

“Hey, babe…if my snoring bugs you why don’t you just sleep on the couch, the floor looks so uncomfortable.”

I left the dead body in a dumpster out back.

Gym Confusion

I like to work out.  I’m one of those people that needs to exert a lot of energy or else I go crazy.  Not kill people crazy, just annoy the crap out of my boyfriend crazy.  Running has always been my go-to exercise, although I like to dabble in yoga and weights from time to time as well.  But running seems to be the best way I can exhaust myself and sweat out all the booze from the night before in one go.

I’ve always felt at home in a gym as well; it doesn’t matter where I am, but if there is exercise equipment involved usually look like I know what I’m doing. I used to feel sorry for those girls who would walk into a gym with their hair neatly done and their mouths shining with lip-gloss, spending the first 10 min trying to figure out “quick start” means on the elliptical; but now I just generally think they are idiots. 

Today I went for a run.  There weren’t too many people in the gym, so I had the treadmills all to myself; which is nice because sometimes I get into a run-off with the person next to me, even though they don’t usually know about it.  I got into a nice rhythm and turned on my music on my iphone (come on grandma, no one uses as iPod anymore) and pretty soon I was into a steady pace.

Then, everything took a turn. 

We recently got free weights in our gym…I know, I can’t believe we didn’t have them before either, but that’s a whole other wildly heated rant.  What this means, though, is that guys who are not really ready for the whole physical exercise deal end up coming down to the gym to “move some weight”. Yup, as if the agro alpha male in board shorts and sandals doing chin ups isn’t enough.  So today, one of these under achieving males decided to strap on his roommates weight lifting gloves and stand around next to the weight rack trying to look fit.

Now, my treadmill is next to the weight room, which is separated by a glass wall.  So this freak show was literally standing 2 feet away from where I was running - yet by the grace of some brilliant design team, he was technically standing in a different room.  And stand there, he did.  For 20 min.  Staring at me.

For TWENTY minutes (I know this because the treadmill timer was glaring me down in a mocking “you’ll never finish” way) he stood there, with a stupid little smirk on his face.  How was I supposed to run with this crazy guy staring me down? How can I enjoy my only ‘run the anger off’ time if I have this weirdo checking me out? I don’t look good right now! I’m sweating, panting for air, my hair is all over the place, I’m wearing a freakin’ Blue Jays t-shirt for gods sake…no boobs are visible AT ALL!

Wait, what if he’s staring at me because I look ridiculous? Do I have snot on my face!? Are my pants on backwards? I looked down and assessed myself….no, everything is in order, thank god I remembered to wear underwear today.  So what is it!? Why is he shaking his head at me? Why is he cheering me on every few minutes? He’s like a crazy manic stalker, I’m not sure if he’s criticizing or applauding me? How can he actually feel comfortable standing there in between his piddly sets, staring at me!!??

I should have just stopped running and reported him to management, had him banned from the gym altogether.  No, I should have walked over and ninja kicked him in the balls.  I finished my run and wiped the sweat off my face.  I shot him a quick angry glance and turned around.  I was thinking of all the things I should be saying to him when I noticed the TV on the wall behind me.  Right…behind…me.

Oh, the Hockey game is on.  Oh…I guess he might have been watching that.

His weight lifting gloves were still super lame.