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Sleepless on the Weekend

I was attacked in my own home last night.

It wasn’t a real restful weekend.

On call weekends usually aren’t.

My on call shift officially started at 12:01am Saturday morning.

The children waited exactly six minutes into my on call weekend to begin cutting themselves out of their gps monitors and set about exploring the beautiful city of Roanoke.

First call came in at 12:07am.

And pretty much continued that way from there.


There was a moment last week when I thought I might go run North Fucking Mountain to get one of the challenge distances knocked out.

That thought disappeared. Along with every last bit of my physical and emotional energy. After two days of marathon truancy meetings.

We all know I have a very limited supply of peopling in me on an average day.

I tore through every last bit of it Thursday and Friday.

Then. Because of who I am as a person. I had Spanish class Friday night.

And. Ok. So I’m taking this course. Spanish sin Pena. Designed for defunct Latinos like me.

And while it is validating to see a whole screen filled with curly black haired brown faces “como se dice” every other word or struggling to roll their rrrrr’s. I had so very little in me to try to engage with the conversation.

But also. We were given the discussion prompt ahead of time. So we could practice what we would say. And y’all.

Que vas hacer cuando se termine la cuarentena?

What will you do when the quarantine is over?

Bitch, I’m gonna sleep. That’s it. Just fucking sleep. I’m going to continue to hibernate and sleep.

Everybody talking about vacations and clubs and restaurants and parties.

Nah. Como se dice I’m gonna take my ass right on back to bed and y’all leave me the hell alone for a little while.

I didn’t though.

I talked about restaurants and trips and ultramarathons. (Did y’all know that ultramaratón is feminine? Because obviously words need genders. The fuck is you doing, Spanish?? English is supposed to be the dumbassest language.)

Anyway. Squeezed my last bit of peopling out into Spanish class. And then dragged my ass to bed. With my on call phone.

And I don’t know why my cats are such assholes. But even after I finished my 12:07 am manhunt phone calls and notes. And thought I might sleep a bit before the animals started demanding breakfast. The cats had apparently chosen on call weekend as the perfect weekend to host fight club.

And fight club is not just a one night special.


It lasts alllll fucking weekend.

So as the children were on their walkabouts. And setting off gps alarms. And causing my phone to ring. Non-fucking-stop. Alllll fucking weekend. The cats were all out beating the ever loving shit out of one another. Alllll fucking weekend.

So that by the time Sunday night rolled around. And the last child called to check in. At 11:42pm. So I could turn off my phone. And I was feeling some sense of peace.

My house erupted into another round of Kung Fu fighting.

Which is why. When I went downstairs to start locking them all in separate rooms. At 12:25 am. I wasn’t prepared. For the attack.

Not a cat. Those little fuckers know better than to approach when I’m storming through the house screaming obscenities.


It was this.

First of all, that’s not mine. It belongs to the future owners of this house I’m living in. I’ve never owned one. I have no idea how it works.

What I do know is. If you happen to brush against it. In an irate sleep stupor. As you’re screaming at the cats to just shut the fuck up. At 12:25 in the morning.

That bitch will wake the fuck up. And chase you through your home.

No. I’m serious. That bitch for real chased me.

Which led to an entirely new set of obscenities. As my brain processed first, what in fuck was happening. And second, how in fuck to make it stop.

I figured it out. Eventually.

And by that point, the cats were all so enthralled by what had just happened, that they quit fighting. And I assume spent the rest of the night giggling about it.

And trying to figure out how to make it happen again.

But casually.

Because she’s not stupid.

So, yeah. When this shit is all over. Voy a dormir. That’s it. I’m just gonna dormir for days.


Just reading and writing and running and looking for my happy place.

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