Last Tuesday, at some point, I panicked thinking it was my
turn to post. I went so far as to check who had written our last post.
Thankfully, it was me, so no worries. Konnie usually has her post done early and generally
also reminds me when I have the post. I have no idea why I panicked, because
Konnie usually reminds me, usually on Tuesday night, but oh well.
On this occasion, I had nothing to worry about and went about
my evening. Everything was fine and quiet until after I turned out the lights
were just starting to doze off when my phone started dinging.
Now I must point out that my phone is set on “do not disturb”
from around nine in the evening until I get up in the morning; however, it
has a feature that certain people I select can get through in an emergency, no
matter the time.
At this moment, I’m rethinking putting Konnie on that list.
The thing is, she normally checks the clock before she
calls, or texts, me. Had she realized what the time was in my time zone, she’d
have known not to send me a text that late.
And honestly, if she’d stuck with just one text, I wouldn’t
have complained, but she didn’t. After the third text, I sent her a text asking
if she knew what time it was.
All I wanted to do was get some sleep without my phone
dinging in my ear at regular intervals.
By the way, it was past my normal bedtime by about a half
hour, and Konnie knows when it is.
FYI, after 9 (Mountain Time) it had better be an emergency
or you send me one text, and one text only, or else I will get testy.
For that matter, I get testy when anyone tries to wake me
up, for any reason. Not like our brother, Bryan, but still, don’t wake me up!
Of course, with Bryan, trying to wake him up was like taking your life into
your hands.
Many eons ago, when we first went to live with our dad and stepmom, our stepmom asked me to wake up Bryon who was still asleep, and it was
nearly noon (It was summer); I told her in no uncertain terms that if she
wanted him awake she could do it.
She tried asking Konnie and our big sister Jacki (AKA
Dictionary) to wake him; they also refused. She got really mad at us asking what was so hard about going upstairs and waking up our brother. I told her to go ahead
and try to wake him up, just try it.
She stomped upstairs muttering about the three of us being obstinate;
we watched and waited. We knew what was going to happen; we grew up with him. It
didn’t take her long to come charging back downstairs, but we never got a
chance to ask her if she’d learned her lesson when she went straight to the cupboard
and got out one of Dad’s extra-large glasses. Now those were Dad’s glasses, we
didn’t use them at all. She filled it with ice and water and then returned
upstairs.
We followed and watched as she leaned over the bed, making sure she kept her torso and legs out of his strike zone, and tipped the glass just
enough that water was about to come out of it and called his name.
He did open his eyes, and I can’t remember if that first
drop hit him or not, but I’ve never seen him move so fast! One second he was lying
down and the next he was in the far corner saying, “I’m up! I’m up!”
Let me tell you, by summer's end our stepmother could stand
in his doorway, call his name, and he’d be in the far corner pronto. Though, if
I recall correctly, he did get soaked at least once.
After that, we never had any problem with getting him up in
the morning. Even a few years later when our stepmom was working graveyards and
thereby came home after we needed to get up. There was at least once when I
tried to wake him, calling from the doorway – way out of his strike zone,
and he ignored me, I said, “Fine, Mom should be home soon, I’ll just let her deal
with waking you.”
Boom! He was in the far corner.
And maybe I should put that into a story sometime.
Just so you know, Bryon would kick and punch anyone who
tried to wake him. We, his sisters,
may be older, but we weren’t taller.
Anyway, happy writing everyone!
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