Last night was no exception. My eyes were heavy around 9:30 pm so I slumped in bed and grabbed my book (America's Dream by Esmeralda Santiago, one of my favorite-ist writer's right now and not just cause she is a talented Boricua, but because she is inspirational and relevant to every woman's struggle, believe it and cop it NOW) practiced horrible posture while my husband took photo's.
Then 9:30 turns into 10:30 and he looks at me and says, "Wanna watch The Fighter?"
I reply, "Sure, let's do it...." secretly thinking in my brain I'm going to fall asleep the first five minutes anyway I am so tired. He proceeds to insert bootleg and I proceed to read. We lag a few minutes, my books getting good and he realizes that Lali put Spongebob sticker heads on every small head in the Urban Outfitter catalog so he keeps clicking and I keep reading. All the while thinking, go ahead and take your time taking your pictures I am going to sleep anyway once that movie starts.
However, as fate would have it, The Fighter ended up being really good and as scenes progressed and minutes passed I found myself more awake than I was an hour and a half prior filled with excitement to watch the plot unfold. It was indeed a very good movie and every moment it slowed down I would look over to my baby daddy and tell him, "MAN! It needs to hurry up and finish! I wanted to go to SLEEP!!" To which he would reply, "I don't know why you didn't think it was going to be good, it was nominated so many times." I guess I just didn't know what to expect and I certainly didn't think that family was going to be that damn crazy and I really wish the bootleg guy that produced that film hadn't cut the sound off when the real Micky and Dicky were talking at the end. Whatever.
Either way I was so hyped up from the movie that I couldn't get back to sleep. I wanted to watch the actual fights, I wanted to see what his redneck sister's really looked like, I wanted to pretend I hadn't even watched it, I wanted to text my brother in law and let him know how good it was. But all that excitement would have to wait (I haven't done any of these things by the way today).
The Boss put on a French film starring Audrey Tautou (I think he has a secre
t lesbian crush on her) but he put it too low so my efforts in deciphering what they were saying were all in vain. I lied there peacefully in my beau's arm desperately seeking Mr. Sandman. I grew more annoyed when I couldn't find him and when I realized that Baby Daddy was already knocked out. So now I was awake alone. I always try and count backwards from 100 but that only results in me being a master at counting backwards from 100. Counting sheep? Fahgettaboutit. No patience. I start to get antsy in my brain. I start to get itchy around my arm but I don't want to move and make him uncomfortable. I hear noises outside, I hear noises inside, I hear the girls move around, I get more and more agitated. Finally I can't take it anymore and I just move closer to the edge because the King likes to sleep right smack in the middle. I embark on my journey in self torture and mentally become lost in tomorrow's to-do list.*Make doctor's appointment for Samie
*Finally sign them up for classes of something this summer
*Pay tickets
*See if we qualify for new phones cause ours are booty and outdated
*Grocery shopping
*Clean
*Write
*Save the world
*Call my Grandma before she calls me
On and on until I feel my youngest terd jump in between her father and I. Dammit, I felt like I had just fallen asleep too and I hadn't even realized it. I guess my to-do list bored the shit out of me and put me to sleep.
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