4:29 AM (warning, this is longer than it should be, I'm not an Editor)

This morning, for no apparent reason, my body decided to wake up at 4:29 AM.  I've asked it repeatedly not to do these kinds of things, but it didn't really seem to care about my feelings.  The real reason I hate waking up in the middle of the night (or at the same time as some of my weirdo friends who are in a jogging club), is that my thoughts become very irrational, emotional and very polarized in comparison to my usual "get over it" attitude.  Seriously, somehow I turn into a 57-year-old woman as I reason through my day to day.

This morning's topics of thoughts were no less ridiculous.  First item of business, rearrange all Young Women's activities between now and December.  This seemed so important that at one point, I thought, "I need to call the Bishop first thing in the morning before he goes to work."  Hmm, I'm sure that phone call would have gone over well.  Note: If you are not Mormon, feel free to skim through any of the Mormon terminology, it's not worth explaining.

Second item had to do with my bed.  It had to go.  Or, at least I thought so at 4:45.  I mean, I wasn't totally off, it is a Queen-size and Dale's toes do brush the end of the bed.  But, I think he likes feeling super tall every night.  The truth is, I bought this bed five years ago at Big Lots (stay tuned for my style blog, "How to Make Your Home look Cheap and Affordable to the Untrained Eye"), it's staying right where it is.  Plus, Dale and I aren't really "snugglers," after we say goodnight, I turn over in the opposite direction, and this bed allows us to feel close without touching.  I promise we really love eachother, but if we had a King-size bed, we'd have to send eachother postcards.  If you really want to know, and I know you do, Dale can't handle sleeping under even a sheet (Chelsey's budget cuts have affected the thermostat), while I enjoy the tradition of a light covering.  This only makes for a scene in which Dale rolls over onto my sheet and traps me inside reminiscent of some kind of chastity bag from the 1800s.  This is most likely why I was lamenting our bed.

Third, now this is weird, I thought about how I want something on my blog to get pinned to Pinterest.  It seemed so glamorous at the moment, like I would be famous, as if I ever want to be famous, gah.  This is weird for soooo (get the emphasis?) many reasons.  For one, I am only mildly involved with Pinterest.  Unlike many women, I honestly have no desire to make anything that requires me to purchase something that is not already in my cupboards or on my shelf.  I skim ingredients and when it says things like "Peanut Butter Cups" or "Unsweetened Chocolate," I move on.  And if the craft requires anything beyond scotch tape or Elmer's Glue, I figure I'm in over my head anyway.  I'm serious.  And don't get me going on 25 Easy Hairstyles, I've been working on one for the last twenty years and I still don't have it down.  So, the thought of me coming up with something worthy of pinning is pretty ridiculous.  I think at the time I was lost in my thoughts about where these items even come from.  Yeah, I'm the one who clicks on the anonymous blogger's other posts to see if it says whether they're married and where they grew up.  I'm much more interested in people.

Lastly, I was finally awoken to reality as at 6:00 when Summer let out two weak cries.  She wasn't really awake, but Dale turned over so quickly to look at the monitor that I had no choice but to return to reasonable thought.  Now, I was lying there grateful that I let Dale keep the monitor on his side of the bed, since I was sick of his heavy arm reaching over me to take a peek.  Plus, he disagreed with my wanting to keep the sound off since she is only a wall away and I can hear her take deep breaths let alone cry.  Now we get to hear any noise in Surround Sound.