You need to know this in order to understand this story.
I did not put the alarm on howler monkey setting. Bryan did a couple of weeks ago when I was out of town.
He was afraid he would sleep through the lovely, calm music setting it was on.
The first morning after my return, when the howler monkey went off at 6:00 am, my head shot off the pillow and my arms automatically began flailing, shooting blind but just wanting to make that horrific sound stop.
Once my heart began beating at a normal rate, I thought to myself, "For the love of all that is holy, make sure you change that before morning".
I didn't remember to change it until 6:00 am once again was upon us and the howler monkey came alive in my ear.
"*%#@!" said I, once my arms stopped their swinging. I got up to get the kids ready for school, repeating to myself, "Change that alarm to the normal volume as soon as the kids leave!"
And again, I forgot until 6:00 am, when my heart shot out of my chest and I flew up to catch it.
Because my lack of memory is completely reliable, you should have been able to predict that the alarm is still at howler monkey setting.
Now to the actual story...
On Sunday, Phoenix had a volleyball tournament in Louisville, Kentucky. Since Bryan was in Texas with Star, and I had other places to be at home, I found a mom of one of Phoenix's teammates to take him.
She was going to pick him up at 6:10 am.
Which meant I had to set the alarm for 5:40. In the A.M.
A ridiculous time for an alarm to be set, for sure.
Especially on a weekend.
Double especially on a weekend when Bryan wasn't home, so I was up super late.
Triple especially when one kid needed a drink at 12:30 and one had a nightmare at 3:30.
So, as scheduled, at 5:40 am, the howler monkey took to scaring the beetlejuice out of me.
In my rattled state, I slammed my hand on the alarm.
I threw the blankets off of me and stood at the side of my bed.
I took one step towards making my way around the bed.
To my surprise, I didn't make it.
My legs went out from under me, and down to the ground I went.
I sat on the floor, back against the mattress, thinking, "How the hell did I get down here?"
(Howler monkeys bring out my inner sailor apparently.)
I wasn't in pain.
I was just confused as to how I had gotten into such a position.
I pulled myself back up to a standing position, using the bed as a brace.
That's when I realized what was wrong.
Apparently, my left thigh didn't hear the howler monkey.
It was still asleep.
My left thigh.
How does one's thigh, and ONLY one's thigh, fall asleep?
Of course, I will never know. When one is woken by a howler monkey in one's ear, one doesn't take note of the way one was sleeping when awoken.
Was I on my stomach? On my side? Was my leg hanging over the edge of the bed?
It will forever be a mystery.
All I know is that my left thigh was asleep and I had to get Phoenix out of bed and ready by 6:05.
Because the mom who was picking him up is always quite prompt.
I hobbled along, holding on to the bed frame, the dresser, the door, the chair, the wall.
Whatever was handy, really.
It wasn't until later that I noticed the pain.
My left knee (not the one I ripped apart playing soccer) hurt whenever my pajama pants touched it.
I lifted my pant leg.
|Full disclosure: This was taken 16 hours after the incident. After the scratch scabbed over and some of the swelling around the scratch went down.|
At least now I have a reminder.
When the blankets hit my leg, I'll feel the pain and think, "Silence the monkey!"
And then I'll laugh.
Because, honestly, who says that?
Have a lovely day!