The Fake-Out

Bedtime is a very precarious process for me.

If done right, I've got both Yoys in bed, asleep by 7:30.  This leaves me 3+ hours to be the lazy slug I dream of being during daylight hours.

If done wrong, it can be the worst 2-3 hours of your day.

Once the last bedroom door is closed, I usually sit upstairs for five minutes.  If there is no movement detected, I'm 90% home free.**

Tonight I waited the obligatory five minutes on the couch.  Then I moved the party to my bedroom.  I bounced down on the bed next to a laundry pile of Mr. Yoy's black and navy socks.

I stared at the ceiling while carefully examining my evening time options.

1) Fold socks.  If they were white socks, maybe.  But having to distinguish between black and navy pretty much guaranteed my failure.  Next.

2) I could read my book club book(s!).  That would require me downloading something onto my Kindle.  I'd have to move my arm over to my nightstand to reach it.  Sigh.

3) I could shower.  Always a popular choice, and a necessity if I want to keep my New Year's resolution.  That would require much movement and effort.  Hold.

4) I could workout.  Or I could watch people working out on television aka The Olympics.

5) I could finish the Yoy tax return.  But we did donate a sh*t ton of stuff to Goodwill and I don't feel like itemizing articles of clothing at this juncture.  File that away for later, get it?

** Warning, here comes the other 10%, the dreaded sleep fake-out.

Mid-tantalizing thought process, I heard a door crack open and the thud of Fred Flintstone feet on the carpet.  There he was, Little E.


Before I could even process his demands, I had to quickly mourn the loss of my evening.  For I knew the drill. The recidivism rate for this guy was off the charts. He would be visiting me every ten minutes for the next two hours.

I've put him back to bed three times so far.

Currently he is taking all of the trains from his room and lining them up next to my feet.

I hope everyone else has better luck tonight!


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