Party of One

I know my husband is tired of my pity parties.  Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to throw them so often if someone other than me would attend occasionally.

Late last night as I was making my way to bed, I noticed a telltale glow coming from beneath my granddaughter's bedroom door.  Mind you, it was well after 1 a.m.  "Get your light off and get to bed!", I lovingly reminded her (as is my way).

"uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh", was her reply (this one I have no idea how to type, but if you have teenagers, you probably know the sound--it's that one-syllable low grunt they're so fond of using).

I walked into my bedroom where my husband was already fast asleep.  I made as much noise as possible.  No response.  "I hope you realize your granddaughter is still awake", I said, once again in my nice, calm voice.  Still nothing.  Okay, this would require the turning on of overhead lights.  Take that, sleeping beauty.

I continued to my bathroom to slather on the multitude of skin products I so desperately hope will someday turn back the clock and restore my youthful contours.  Fifteen minutes later, and in a really foul mood from spending that much time looking at myself in a mirror, I returned to the hallway to see if my gentle reminder that it was past bedtime had had any effect on my granddaughter.  Her light was still on.

I flung open the door to find her sitting at her computer, not a care in the world.  "GET TO BED NOW!", I said, just slightly more agitated than before.

Back downstairs I headed, knowing it was my job to remain alert and ensure that the night owl didn't slip outside while her grandfather slumbered peacefully.  Tossing and turning on the sofa all night was the most effective way to do that.

About an hour later the dogs decided to get in on the fun by barking at something outside.  I dragged my tired self up and turned on all the exterior lights to see what the hell they thought was so important at 2 a.m.  Yeah, tomorrow was going to be a fun day.

When my husband ventured downstairs this morning, I thought it best to let him know right away that I wasn't happy and well-rested.  "I didn't get much sleep last night", I said, hoping for a teeny-tiny word of sympathy.  "Your granddaughter was still up at 1 a.m."  His reply?  "Yes, I know.  She was up when I went to bed.  I was up and down all night checking on her, too."

My reply?  "Mmmh, hmmm".  Again, not sure how to express that in writing, but if you're married, you know the sound.  The one that says, "Yeah, sure you were."