9:59 On Wednesday
It's 9:59 on Wednesday night and I've just been kicked out the bed that I paid for. Where is the justice in that? Seriously?
"You know Epcot looks pretty cool. I was just talking to my boss about it today.."
"Please stop talking."
"What, what!? Please stop. You're making me noxious."
"I was just saying that they actually have people speaking in different languages"
"You're gesturing with your hands and rocking the bed!"
"Oh. Well I was just saying-"
"No one can see what you're doing with your hands!"
"First you try to kill us both with the unholy odor of your socks and now you are torturing me by denying my body of sleep."
"It's not even 10:00"
"Well, I'm not tired."
"You didn't get up at 5:00 this morning. And every morning this week!"
"Well no. But you fell asleep during the movie about 40 minutes ago."
"And why did you wake me up?"
"So we could go to bed."
"Yet you're not letting us sleep. Because of your incessant jabbering nonsense!"
"I was just thinking about Epcot."
"Am I honestly not doing enough by getting up at 5:00AM to get you and the girls ready every morning that I have to be asphyxiated at night by rotting feet and then subjected to the musings of a boring turtle rocking the bed?"
"Good night Peter."
"You know we've got gigantic cutlery.."
"Seriously? What part of "please shut up" are you missing? Peter! Stop talking! Honestly, no joke. Go play your demonic game or watch your stupid show."
"It's not demonic."
"You have minions and you control an abyss... Look, I'm not having this conversion!"
At which point she started half laughing and half crying. I think she might be a wee bit tired. So here I am. It's times like this when you wonder; do my feet really stink that bad or was she just lashing out in hopes of driving me out long enough to drift into a deep sleep.