Sleep interrupted

Last night I slept. I slept well for the first time in weeks. I slept solidly and deeply. I might actually still be asleep if not for the paragon of a man I am honored to call my husband. You see, this man has made me a baseball widow.

You may think that is not so bad. Football widow is far far worse. Lots of loud men coming over to your house once a week to yell at a screen that cares not the level of decibels in its vicinity. I think I could handle this. Not that it happens to me so it is possible that I could not and football is just as insidious as baseball.

Football however has a rather limited time scope. The events of which I speak are drug out across 9 months. Preparation begins in January. Regular visits to the gym, which I admit that I benefit from. I like seeing the Honey beefed up for the coming season. Yes, I'm not talking about watching baseball. Playing baseball is what has made a widow.

Preseason games are regular starting in late April. This weekend there is a tournament, also preseason. It was scheduled to start yesterday morning at 9. It could not, despite the loveliness of yesterday, due to the lack of tarps on the fields and the rain we had on Friday. A whole weekend event and the season has not even begun yet. The games go every Sunday, most of the day sometimes all, through August.

The first game the Honey was to be playing in started this morning at 9. This is where we get back to the sleeping. I heard nothing this morning as he was getting up and getting his things together. I did not hear him take a shower, though admittedly that is harder sleeping in the dining room. He told me last night that he was going to be leaving around 7:30 because it takes 20-30 minutes to get there. He must have left but I was not aware of it. He even kisses me goodbye, I probably said something but there is no memory of it. I was awakened from my much needed deep sleep by my cell phone ringing at 8:26. So deep asleep was I that I did not wake in time to get the phone before it stopped ringing. As I was calling the number back with bleary eyes, the house phone began ringing on the other side of the house. Stumble across the house, through the living room filled with dining room table and chairs to the phone, behind Everything.

The Honey, "I'm really sorry for waking you hon but I need you to bring me my jersey. I forgot it when I left this morning."
Me, "Huh?"
The Honey, "My jersey. I need you to bring me my jersey."
Me, "When?"
The Honey, "When you can get it here. I can probably borrow one from one of the other guys for a bit. Oh and can you bring my black ski shirt too? Its frickin cold out here."
Me, garbled gurgles of incoherency
The Honey, "I'm really sorry. I know you were asleep."
Me, "I'm still asleep."
The Honey, "Can you bring them out to me?"
Me, "How do I get there?"
The Honey, ...directions...
Me, "K, see you in a bit."
The Honey, "I love you."
Me, "Love you too."
*click*

His one comment of consolation once I got there, after apologizing yet again, "Well you got about eight hours." Thanks honey. Thanks a lot.

I dressed rather eccentrically. Emo goth girls across the nation would be proud. Its now 11. I still haven't eaten. Working on that one. I think I am finally waking up enough to recognize that I am effin cold and that I should turn up the heater... Yep 64 degrees in here... The eccentric dress was actually to ward off the cold. It worked while I was outside. All black is good a soaking up the sunshine. Flowy skirts actually keep wind out really well.

Having ingested calories and turned up the heat I am considering going back to bed. The Honey just called to say he'll be home in 30 minutes until 4-ish if they have another game in this tourney. I really do love my husband. Anyone else I would have ignored the phone.