It is a beautiful night tonight. The weather has finally cooled down, the moon is full, the breeze is mild, the crickets are singing softly out in the field. It is the kind of night that makes you think of poetry, and lover's rendezvous. The kind of night where I should be sleeping peacefully.
Instead, I am being kept awake by the smell of cat piss coming in through the windows, and the snoring of the two males in my bedroom. The Spouse Sparrow is doing the actual, serious snoring, and our 2-year-old, the Nestling Sparrow, is performing the imitation, "comedy," snoring. I can tell the Nestling Sparrow thinks that his dad snoring is a real laugh riot, what with the giggles in between his fake snores. I lay there in bed for a while, thinking that one or the other of them is bound to give up, sooner or later, what with my repeated exhortations of "Shhhh!" to the Nestling Sparrow, and the shoving of the Spouse Sparrow. I am in luck; they both finally do stop their snoring, and both go back to sleep. The moon is starting to set, and all is quiet.
I am starting to drift off again, into a world of blissful peace, towards the sleep that I so desperately need. I slip back toward the realm of dreams and poetry.... "Come into the garden, Maud...."
But there is no Maud in our garden. The only female in our garden is our large dog, Grace, and that is exactly the moment that she decides to take a huge, massive crap right underneath our bedroom window. The stench of this cannot be over-exaggerated, or escaped, and the warm, fuggy smell of dog dung wafts in through the open bedroom windows. There is no hope for me. If I get up and close the windows, that will wake up the entire household; if I continue laying there, I will seriously hork all over the bed. I get up, and make my way to the cold comfort of the computer.
And people wonder why I am up at all hours of the night.