crankyAnyway, so Meghan goes down for a nap, and I go back to my room to get dressed, thinking happily, "No post on Sundays!" (HP reference alert! I was just listening to Sorcerer's Stone on CD in the car yesterday. :) ) My dog freaks out when the mailman comes, which always disrupts Meghan (aka the lightest sleeper in the world) from her nap, so I'm reveling in the fact that this won't happen today.
Three or four minutes later, cue doorbell.
Half a second later, cue manic barking by my dog.
I have no idea who's at my door, and I can't go find out, because I am 100% naked.
Maybe 30 or 45 seconds later, cue baby crying. I was surprised she waited that long to cry, actually.
Two seconds later, cue me snapping my fingers down the stairs and hissing my dog's name, trying to get her to shut up. Cue my brain heaving a great, big resigned sigh, because it knows that once Meghan's up, it's really hard, and often impossible, to get her back down, even if I nurse her again.
Although...OK, maybe the universe doesn't hate me. Maybe it only has a strong dislike of me, because while I was typing this up, hoping a miracle would happen and the crying would stop on its own,...a miracle happened and the crying stopped on its own!
I don't know whether to kill someone or celebrate. Maybe the best thing to do would be to finish getting dressed before the next time the universe decides to vomit on my shoes.
I know, I know, baby with sleep problems =/= famine, house destroyed by hurricane, terminal illness, etc. But I still had to vent.
Addendum: STOP SUCKING, LJ! I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU TRY TO EAT THIS POST AGAIN.
