Last night I woke up at 2:30 and could NOT fall back to sleep. I'm not a super great sleeper to begin with. But then I found I had a lot on my mind.
Dumb stuff, really. But stuff nonetheless. I tossed. I turned. I seriously counted sheep. But I found that my sheep were on a conveyor belt (true story) and were passing too quickly for me to count. I tried imagining them jumping off the conveyor belt... but I couldn't get them off. I sense I have bigger issues than insomnia!
One of the things I worried about was the fact that Thanksgiving is NEXT WEEK. Hello. The surgery and being in bed and barfing and stuff like that kinda allowed that fact to sneak up on me. And there are plenty of holiday details that have fallen through the cracks. Because, let's face it, husbands are great for raking leaves, plunging toilets and getting oil changes, but holidays would no longer be celebrated if women suddenly vanished. I spent nearly 45 minutes on what would happen if the kennel was already full. (Our kennel is incredibly popular and we've been shut out a few times in the past!)
Another chunk of time was spent fretting over what to do for the actual dinner. We are going up to my dad's and now that he is in a small one bedroom apartment, there isn't heaps of room for cooking a turkey dinner; or even catering one in. And who wants to plan and orchastrate a meal in someone else's kitchen anyway? Our plan is to make a reservation at a nice nearby hotel that has a lovely buffet. But I forgot to call and make reservations yesterday. So at 3:30 am, I was convinced all reservations were gobbled (I hear your groans at my bad pun from here, don't think I can't!) up. What then?
I could not let the opportunity to obsess over the Christmas holiday pass me by either.
You see, Olivia received an American Girl Doll catalogue in the mail about 2 weeks ago. I have never seen a girl love a magazine more. She pours over that thing like its going away (which it *might* the next time it leaves her clutches.) She is in LOVE with Felicity... who of course, is being retired after this Christmas. (Why a doll gets retired is beyond me. I guess to give well meaning parents sleepless nights. Stupid capitalism.) But I've already told her that she can't have one until she's six. Because you need to P.R.O.V.E. to me that you are responsible enough and love dolls enough before I spend one hundred bones on a doll.
But the thing is, she hasn't bugged me. She hasn't whined or pouted. She just looks at her pathetically worn catalogue. Night and Day. And it actually makes me want to get one for her. But then I remember the hundred bones. And then I reconsidered. And then I thought, "But they are going to RETIRE her favorite one." And then I slapped myself and said, "Get a hold of yourself, woman! She'll totally be in love with something else by the time she's six."
And then the clock turned 5:15.
And then I fell asleep. And then the alarm went off at 6:35. And then I cussed.
** And just so YOU can rest tonight: There was ONE more opening at the kennel. I took it! I was able to make a reservation for the time we wanted at the buffet. Whew! And no, I still don't know what to do about the doll, but I'll keep you posted.