I can't sleep. I roll over in this gigantic rock hard bed and look at Mrs. Cover stealer. She's sleeping peacefully. The jerk. Reaching for bedside travel alarm clock the time reads 4:30am in the morning. Ugh. Not good enough I toss and turn to try to find a few more moments of sleep. Quick mental math says my body is jetlagged from the 11 hours worth of time zones I travelled through yesterday. Or is it 13 hours I travelled through the day before? Point is I'm on the other side of the world from where my body thinks it should be and I still can't sleep. Why? Soviet style firm mattress, no. Lack of covers, nothing unusual there. Strange sausage soup in stomach ate at 11:00 last night? Nope, heart is still a tinder box-like structure with a leaky gas line and no flame sources are near by.
It dawns on me that the real reason I can't sleep is that it is the day that we go to the baby house to meet someone who may become our child.
I can't sleep now because I'm fretting over what I should wear. Jamie will help with this one. Should I wake her to ask? Yes! Oops can't. Self preservation alarm prevents me from harm like that. Can't really give it up and creep as silently as a church mouse to check and make sure bags with clothes still there. Confirmed that our bags didn't evaporate into thin air. Rats. Feet on floor means not sleeping! Feeling the bitter shame of defeat, I use the alarm clock radioactive glow mode to skillfully and silently explore more. Self preservation alarm needs to be range adjusted and retested. Apparent now that Velcro ripping, toilet flushing, baggage juggling, and wardrobe spelunking do not qualify as silent, skillful, or smart. Sorry for that, Beautiful...
We are about to change everything for one little child very soon.
Well, I guess I can blog :)