Last night at my house was like Gare de Lyon on a holiday weekend.
I'm not talking about the evening when I pulled into the garage at 4:30 and Tucker hopped in the car with his guitar so I could drop him off at band practice. Or the fact that when I returned home Spencer was there for a brief while before he sped off to work.
I'm talking night time, when most families are sleeping.
I went to bed at 10. I'd been up since 5 a.m., ran three miles, taught from 7 to 4, planned my class for the next day then baked an oatmeal cake. I was exhausted.
A little after 10, Tucker appeared beside my bed for a goodnight kiss. At 10:45, I bolted out of bed and stood in the kitchen. Spencer was home from work.
"Go to bed," I mumbled as I staggered back to my bed.
Sometime later, Grace left for a midnight showing of the new Pirates of the Caribbean and Earl arrived home from work.
At 12:20 a.m., my phone rang. "Grace" read the glowing screen.
"Hello? Hello!" I groggily muttered into the phone.
No answer. Just the sound of the movie playing in the background.
She must have butt dialed me.
I staggered into the living room and saw Earl watching TV. I held up my phone in explanation and then plugged it in to charge -- away from the bed.
Earl came to bed at some point but didn't wake me. At 3 a.m., I heard the backdoor open and Grace came in to kiss me goodnight.
I didn't ask how the movie was. I felt more exhausted from my night of no sleep.
"Did you lock the back door?" I asked.
Then she got ready for bed, her light on, the bathroom light on. The cats wandering around, unable to settle down.
"Grace, go to bed," I called.
"I am," she said, and turned off the light, before flipping it back on.
Finally, everyone in the house was asleep.
My eyes shot open. The cat was chewing on the computer cord. I could hear him rubbing against the velcro cord holder.
"Tybalt," I hissed.
He left the cord and jumped onto the bed, pacing up and down until I got out of bed.
Time to catch a train.
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