This is an essay entitled “Why I Can’t Sleep at Night.” And I mean other than the baby waking, or the child who had the bad dream, or needs a drink, or has to go potty, or is throwing up in the hallway.
Imagine, my friends, the following scenario:
You’re asleep. You’ve been asleep for about an hour. You’re just gettin’ to the good stuff in your dreams. You are awakened by the sound of your husband flinging back the sheets and jumping out of bed. Then you see–through your half-opened fuzzy eyes–him swatting the back of his ear. Somewhat like a dog might. I don’t even remember what I said to him, but he told me there was a bug in his ear. I looked, and there was no bug.
He asked me to look again. No bug.
He’s still swatting at his ear. I think he may have knocked a screw loose. I’m tired. But okay, let’s go in the bathroom and have a closer look in the light.
I’m yanking his ear all around, trying to get a good look in there. Way down in there. I see nothing. No bug. He swears there is something in there. He says he can hear it. Again, concerned about his sanity. So I get this brilliant idea to take a capful of peroxide and dump it in there to flush out whatever is (not) in there.
Fantastic. I take out the peroxide, pour some in the cap, dump it into his ear, and oh.my.word. Out it comes. The spider. There was a spider in his ear people. A SPIDER. IN HIS EAR. So far down in there that it was no longer visible.
He was afraid that it may have left something in there, like an egg sack or something. So he took the handy dandy bulb syringe and flushed his ear out with more peroxide. He thinks he saw a leg come out.
With the ordeal over, I crawled back in bed, pulled the sheets up (Waaaay up. Over my ears.) and closed my eyes. But any thoughts of me drifting back to sleep went down the drain with that spider. I spent the remainder of the night tossing and turning and feeling like there were lots of bugs on me.
And that, my friends, is why I can’t sleep at night.