It’s 4:15 a.m. My husband has been stirring in bed for a little while and finally gets up to sleep in the other room to try to avoid disturbing me. Too late. I’m awake. And what do I need to do anytime I have been woken up in the middle of the night? That’s right…pee! I linger in bed a while longer, hoping the need will pass. Of course it doesn’t. I grumble a bit as I fling back the covers that until then had been a warm, safe haven of snuggle. I stumble a bit as my feet hit the floor, but soon, I’ve remembered how this whole walking thing works. Or at least I thought.
I begin the voyage across the room and make the right turn into the bathro-SMACK!! What in the name of all that is good and holy??!! I stammer back a few steps and try to figure out what the HELL just happened. I squint (no glasses on as I thought my trip would be uneventful and not in need of clear vision) to look in front of me and see the frame of the bathroom door staring back at me. “i.just.ran.into.the.wall.” I think to myself. “How did I just run into the wall? Was I still asleep? Were my eyes open? Did the door move? Yes, that’s definitely it. The door totally moved.” As the pain sears through my skull, which took the brunt of the wall’s vicious attack, my bladder hasn’t gotten the memo that I’m practically knocked out and still needs to pee.
So I finish up, v.e.r.y. carefully walk back to bed, and once again reclaim my place under the blanket. Except now, my head throbs as I palpate my forehead, fully expecting a lump. Luckily, I don’t feel one and soon I drift back to sleep.
When I finally get up and tell my husband about my ordeal, he says…well THAT’S what that big noise was! He heard it all the way down the hall. I guess I have a hard head.
I might just wear a helmet to bed tonight.
Edited to add: oooww…now I have nilly feel a bruise. 😦