Mr. Q's gone for the weekend - off to play a couple of shows in the interior. He flew out early this morning with a friend....The flight was so early, they decided it made more sense for him to stay over at the drummer's place after rehearsal last night, and share a cab to the airport today. So I saw him off about 6:30 last night, and toodled on downtown to my knitting meet-up.
I was a bit later than I'd anticipated - stayed out till the whopping late hour of ELEVEN O'CLOCK!!!!!!!!!! (Which, as a co-worker pointed out today, is my body clock's equivalent to about 2 A.M.) But, I wasn't too concerned. I didn't have to be up till 7:00 this morning, and I wouldn't have the fuss and bother of Mr.Q's alarm going off at 5:00, and then trying to get back to sleep while he gets ready for work at that ungodly hour.
I went to bed about 11:30, savouring the sweet notion of an uninterrupted sleep, till 7:00 even - practically sleeping in! I fell immediately into a lovely, deep sleep.
(You know where this is going, don't you?)
The phone rang at 1:23 A.M. I leapt out of bed, my mind racing. Who could be calling at this hour? What's wrong? Who was found mangled in a ditch or kidnapped or abducted by aliens or in jail and how am I going to raise bail at this hour and what will I say when I call in to work because I have to go bring a nail file in a cake to somebody....? (My imagination runneth a little amok at that hour, when startled from a sound sleep.)
It was Mr.Q. With that tone of voice particular to someone on the gherkin side of pickled, and trying really, really hard to keep it a secret. "We don't have an alarm here. Can you call me at 5:00 and wake us up?"
You've got to be frackin' kidding me!
Of course I had to say yes, though for purely selfish reasons. Otherwise I'd be up all night anyway, worried about him making his flight.
So, I set the alarm for 5:00, and when the Beatles, bless them, woke me up - I stumbled to the phone and called. To his credit, he picked up before his voicemail did. (I took grim satisfaction in knowing that my alarm is, in fact, about 5 minutes fast. So I was really waking him up at 4:55. A small difference, but knowing that "4:00" was somehow involved was satisfying, in a petty but totally guilt-free kind of way!)
I went back to bed. I suspected he'd fall asleep again, so I hit the snooze button. This time it was Neil Diamond singing me awake. And I'll confess here and now, I'm not his biggest fan. I stumbled to the phone and called again. "Hello, this is your snooze button calling."
I tried to sound chipper, or at least nice. I really did. But I suspect I sounded more like a premenstrual T.Rex on crack. (Or would that be a T.Regina?)
Thankfully, I fell back asleep without any difficulty. And truth be told, I was able to see even at the time that I'd be able to laugh at this. Later. In daylight. Someday.
I remember the "for better or for worse" part of the thing...and wool knows, we've done the "richer or poorer" - or the "poorer," anyway - I'm not holding my breath for a chance to test out the "richer" bit!...but I'm sure there was nothing about wake-up calls or alarm clocks. At FIVE frackin' A.M.!
There are reasons why I put up with it, of course. Including this:
How could I not love a man who sees that and thinks of me?