…The way you love me is frightning! You better knock (boopity boopity boopity boopity bing!)… on wood! Baby!

Friday night. After a long week, I’m tired and looking forward to an alarm-free night in my nice cozy warm bed. I put my head on the pillow and per usual, I fall asleep instantly. Nudge. Nudge. “Steve…STEVE! You’re snoring. Can you go downstairs?” Grumble. “Okay…” So, off to the dungeon I go. I grab a snack and head to the basement. With a full belly and a comfortable couch (it’s not my bed, but it’s ok), I am off to la-la land again. “Dad… DAD! It’s thunder and lightning outside and the dog is trembling and she’s keeping me awake. Can I put her down there with you?” Grumble. “Sure…”

So, it’s me, the dog and the fishtank in the basement. Sleep doesn’t come too easily after you’ve been awakened twice in an hour and a half. And, it’s certainly not aided by a trembling mutt who can’t find comfort, but is looking for it by pushing its way under my pillow or behind my back or in my face. Add to that a thunder storm (that I would have slept through) pounding its way closer and closer to Moncton. Rumble.

All I could think was “What if lightning strikes my house, destroying the upper flat?” The only survivors would be me and the animals. That would learn’em for kicking me out of bed and making me sleep with the dog, eh? My half-baked, exhausted mind was confused and torn between grief, vengeance and home repair bills. It was too much for my brain to take and it shut down. I think my snoring drowned out the thunder, because the dog dozed off too.