It's quiet. Too quiet out here in the living room. One son went home and the other went with him to visit Dad until Monday. I just don't know what to do with myself, after the frenzy of getting ready for Christmas.
So now I am home alone in the silent living room, it's 11 p.m. and I'm getting sleepy. My wonderful warm bed is calling me. Flannel sheets, feather pillow, down comforter- -traditionally my favorite place in the universe. But lately it is the site of my restlessness, my anxious worrying, my troubled thoughts.
And every night, just when I am about to tame my troubled mind long enough to drift off to sleep, "RRRUFFF!" as if it comes from inside my own room. Adrenaline shoots through my chest, anger, rage and fury, frustration and desperation for one, just one good night's sleep.
My neighbor has a barking dog kenneled five feet from my bedroom window. Luckily, I haven't heard the barking since I went over there to say something at 8 a.m. Christmas morning. But last night, all night, the dog was noisily worrying something, trying to claw her way to freedom no doubt. And the wind was blowing tree branches down onto the kennel's tin roof. The bumping and banging went on non-stop from 11 p.m. until I finally had to resort to earplugs to get to sleep at 4 a.m.
Earplugs are a bad idea when you live in the country. A healthy sense of self- and family-preservation depends upon senses that are not dulled.
I am at my wits' end.
I can't imagine why he thought that would be a good place for the kennel--is it because it's far from his own bedroom window?
Last night when I was feeling desperate for sleep, I was thinking we are just going to have to move. Keep in mind we just moved in here Sept.1. There are still boxes I haven't unpacked. I searched all summer for this house and the idea of moving again makes me want to cry.