What's that squeak?

A few weeks ago, as Matt and I were going to sleep, we heard an intermittent squeak from the crawl space behind the head of our bed. At first we thought it was a low battery on some electronic device, but that wasn't the case.

The next morning, as I was trying to grab a few extra minutes of sleep, I heard it again. And then I started to get a little concerned, because the rain that was pattering on the rooftop sounded like little feet running across our crawl space. And that got me thinking, what if this squeak is an animal inside our house?

Well, I tried to put it out of my mind, and I did, until this week when I was home alone for a night. And I started hearing it again. Now I'm normally not too concerned about being alone in the house at night, but when I start to get the feeling that I might not be alone ... well, I get a little concerned!

So I stuffed my ears with earplugs, cranked up my sound machine and tried to rationalize the fact that a little squeak really couldn't harm me too much ... unless of course it scurried into our room and crawled up my bedsheets.

I didn't sleep very well that night.

And the next day at work, as I told a few of my coworkers about this mysterious squeak, I got more than an earful of mouse, rat and even bat stories.

And let me just tell you this - researching "where do bats live" or "what sound do bats make" on the Internet is not for the faint of heart. Have you ever seen a picture of a bat up close? Terrifying. They're like terrible mice with capes!

So I went out and bought a mouse trap. But I haven't put it in the crawl space yet. At first I was too scared to open the door and wanted to wait until Matt was home to do it.

And then, funny thing, the squeak went away. And to my knowledge, we only hear it when it rains.

So what I thought was going to be an "exciting" blog post about a family of mice or maybe even a bat or two, or maybe a bird, living in our attic, is really nothing more than a post about small leak or creak that's been robbing my sleep. At least I hope so!

Easter in Annapolis

I wish I had taken pictures of how beautiful Annapolis looked over Easter, especially compared to how gray Detroit still looks, although signs of spring are slowly beginning to appear.

However, my camera, and my family members' cameras only had eyes for my nephew Tucker.

Fortunately, I'll be in Annapolis this coming weekend as well, so maybe I'll snag some memories of spring to post on my refrigerator while I wait for the real thing to finally arrive.

Until, then, I'll be looking at these!

When?

The other day, as we were cleaning the house and preparing for guests, Matt mentioned that my mail/collect-all basket that lives in our dining room bookshelf, was full, in effect suggesting that it needed to be sorted and emptied.

To which I retorted, "When?  When, Matt, would I have had time to take care of that?"

I feel like I've been saying this a lot recently.  "When?"

My mother will say, "Have you put pictures on your new bulletin board" or "Have you blogged today?"

When?  WHEN?

I don't mean to be one of those people who moans and groans about being so busy, as if that makes me more important.  I really don't want to be that way!  But I do have to say that lately, I just haven't been able to keep up with tedious tasks like sorting the mail and folding my laundry.  Getting new lenses for my glasses or switching my debit card pin number to one I can actually remember?  Not happening.

And what's frustrating to me is that I feel like I'm one of those people who milks all she can out of nearly every waking minute.  In fact, I had a friend in college who always wondered how I could get ready so fast in the morning.  I told her that the key was to always be in motion. Never stand and pause, debating on whether or not to make your bed or get dressed first.  Just do whatever comes to your mind right away, and, when possible, do two things at once.

This is why I rarely brush my teeth standing still.  I can easily fill a water glass for my bedstand or open the blinds with toothbrush in hand.  Or in mouth, I should say.

So why do I feel so behind?  Must I really begin sorting the mail at the bathroom sink?

Sheets and sleeping bags

Last night Matt and I went to a Savor Party. At a Savor party, each guest is required to bring their favorite food and an object that they cherish.

For my cherished object, I brought an ironed pillowcase. I love high-quality bed linens. When they are ironed, getting into bed is like slipping yourself into a cocoon that will shield you from all the troubles of today and the worries of tomorrow.

I don't usually take the time to iron my pillowcases, but the Savor party has inspired me to do so more often. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping, so I think it's important to do whatever I can to promote better sleep.

Matt did not bring an ironed pillowcase for his cherished object. He brought his sleeping bag. His sleeping bag reminds him of camping, of nights spent sleeping outside, cold and bone-tired, of enjoying nature with friends.

I can't decide if our cherished objects are extremely different or very much the same. While our chosen locales for sleeping clearly are in contrast, we both place high value on our sleeping experiences, however different our "cocoons" might be.

Furthermore, take a look at the picture above. Who do you think made our guest bed with such care and attention to detail?

I'll give you a hint. It wasn't me!