Good Morning, It's 3:00 AM

Morning! Who else is up? It may be 5:03 AM now, but I was up at 3:00 AM. Second day in a row.


Yesterday, 3:00 AM:

“Rachel?” said Jared. “Rachel?”

“Huh?! Wha?!” I had been deeply asleep, and his voice scared me awake.

“Can you hear that? Is that the smoke detector?”

Why did he have to ask me? Dunno. I got up.

“I can take dare of it,” he said.

“No, I’m up,” I answered.

This is so boring to write about. But, If you’ve been startled awake, missed the bottom step in the dark, and stood partially clothed in multiple corners of your house waiting and listening for the periodic chirping of a smoke detector with a dying battery, you know what I mean.


This morning, I woke to the sounds of a congested child forcing his breath through his mucus clogged nose. Can’t you mouth breathe, I wondered. 3:00 AM. I didn’t look at the clock, I just knew the time.

I laid down on the couch downstairs out of mucus range. Lumpy blankets to be adjusted. Drafts. Thoughts of cave crickets. Rain. Mysterious objects under my feet - library books, stuffed animals. Creaking house. Thoughts of emails, the rainy weekend ahead, how to optimize my work flow, and so on until I turned on the lights and picked three groups of items: books on pollinators by Heather Holm, loaner books about nature and the psyche, and my lap top.

I flipped through the loaner books, was intrigued, looked up reviews of the author, and decided it was time to get back to writing.


(I think I wrote about this once before, but it was amusing and worth repeating):

Once the toilet was clogged.

When the toilet is clogged, it always seems to happen on my visit to the bathroom. Jared probably agrees. By that I mean not that he agrees with me that the toilet clogs up for me, Rachel, but that he probably also feels that the toilet always clogs up for him on his trip to the bathroom. I agree with myself and disagree with him, and he can’t argue because he is asleep.

Besides, when the toilet clogs up for the kiddo, guess who takes care of it? Not the kid, of course. I’m handling 150% of toilet situations in the house. That’s real math. That’s real emotional math.

Once the toilet clogged up, and I yelled downstairs, “The toilet’s clogged, and I am looking for someone to blame!”

This is also somewhat boring to write about and possibly ‘not cool’, but if you’ve been there, you know what I mean. Because you’ve been standing in the bathroom, pleased that the toilet is once again a functioning toilet. And that means you have a drippy toilet plunger in your hand. Which means you have to figure out what to do with the plunger. Toss it in the tub? Leave it in the toilet? Out the window? Hustle across the bath at and down the steps?


With that it’s 5:42 AM. I will leave for a plant sale in about two hours. Sleep would have been nice. but writing is even better. Momma will be taking a nap after lunch.