Party On With Your Lemon Pledge

Here I am, still awake, just waiting for y'all to come in and JOIN THE PARTY!

Because you know the reason I'm still awake at the crack of midnight is just because I want you to enjoy every little piece of the dark you can. So party on, dudes and dudettes. Party on.

You'll find the cheese dip and nacho chips over in the corner along with salsa. Don't mind Hubster. He's asleep, but not likely to wake up. He never does during these little soirees. Help yourself to a sandwich. The pop is in the fridge. Looks like we'll be in for a long night.

It seems as though my friend Ambien has decided to attend, but to sit out the dancing. It's been two hours and forty minutes of relaxation CDs without a sign of dear Ambien making a move.

And I'm beginning to get a bit peevish here. And maybe just a little cranky. I mean seriously? Everyone in the house is asleep except me. EVEN THE DOG.

And all I can think about while I'm in bed is how I need to dust the furniture. I haven't dusted the furniture in months. I haven't thought about dusting the furniture in months. I haven't had the slightest yearning to dust furniture in months.

But tonight, TONIGHT, it's all I can think about.

Of course, it doesn't help that the relaxation CD is one I've listened to many times before.

Here's a hint to those of you wishing to make a career in the relaxation CD field: Never use phrases that can be identified. For instance, this particular CD uses the phrase "...a soothing calm, like a healing balm..." near the end. As soon as I hear that phrase, my mind automatically says, "Oh crap, I only have three minutes to get to sleep before the CD ends." So of course, I never do.

And I end up polishing furniture at zero dawn thirty.

I suppose it could be worse. I could fall asleep while polishing furniture, egregiously injuring myself by hitting my head on said furniture and thereafter being forced by my weakened state to the point of repeating the phrase "...a soothing calm, like a healing balm..." over and over again for the rest of my born days. That could be worse.

Yes. Well then.

I do believe I hear furniture calling my name. And Lemon Pledge. And a dust rag.

Party on.