Tuesday night

Here's the play-by-play of the activities in my household last night:

9:30 pm: Zoey and I are both in bed. Neither of us are asleep--I am reading and she is blabbering to her dolls, but we are in bed nonetheless.

11:58 pm: Bryan wakes me up holding the phone in his hand and saying "your work is on the phone...are you still on call?!?". It takes me about 30 seconds to gather my bearings and remember what day it is, that I am NOT, in fact, on call, and give this information to the nursing supervisor. I am barely coherent enough to tell her the name of the nurse who IS on call Tuesday nights.

11:59 pm: I hang up, but Bryan takes my meager act of clear-thinking to mean that I am actually fully awake, and attempts to engage me in a detailed discussion about our checkbook. He needs to get a check to Lowe's on Wednesday, to pay for the flooring for the new house, because the debit card won't work over the phone, and should he take just one check, or the whole book? I tell him I don't really give a f@*% WHAT he does with the checkbook, and roll over in an attempt to return to sleep.

12:02 am: Bryan returns upstairs and proceeds to, I don't know, move furniture or some other very NOISY activity for about 20 minutes. I kind of want to kill him.

12:20 am: Bryan returns downstairs, flips on the light, and begins putting away his clothes so that he can, I guess, hear what it sounds like to slam EVERY DRESSER DRAWER HE OWNS. First of all, since when does he put his clothes away promptly? And second, why the hell does this HAVE to occur at such a godforsaken hour of the night?

3:12 am: *CLICK* Hall light is on. And I hear....."Mommy?".

3:27 am: I return to bed, yet again, after settling Zoey back in for the night. Bryan rolls over to inform me that HE could have gotten up to take care of her. Why didn't I ask?

3:28 am: Officially want to strangle husband.

5:30 am: My alarm goes off. Hooray.