Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Winken, Blinken and Thud

I sleep on a loft bed. This IKEA "design solution" seemed like a genius idea when I bought it, and it kind of is. My room is a little bit small for my absolutely unforgivable amount of possessions, so the loft bed allowed me to increase my under-the-bed space by, like, six thousand percent. I've got a chair and a nighttable under there, and an ottoman, and a lamp, and currently a pile of clean clothes I don't even want to think about putting away.

The flip side is, of course, that I'm six feet off the ground when I'm in bed. I was not the kind of child who did things like climb trees or build clubhouses. I was, conversely, the kind of child who spent hours arranging those cylindrical beads on those little pegboards and then ironing them so they melted together to form, y'know, melted beads in the shape of the pegboard. I didn't do a lot of scrambling or venturing to the top of things. It is therefore pretty predictable that, as an adult, the very last thing I want to do when I get up in the morning (or, even worse, if I have to pee in the middle of the night) is roll around like a manatee until I'm lined up with my ladder and then climb, rung by cold rung, to the ground.

Waking up should not incorporate elements from military fitness courses. Taking the D train with the chewers and nose-blowers is trial enough for the pre-noon hours.

So, anyway, the point is I sleep in a loft bed. 22 previous years of sleeping three feet from the floor have convinced me that I have a lot more leg room than I actually do, leg room I never realized I utilized so violently until it was reduced. I do a lot of urgent, dramatic blanket adjusting when I'm going to sleep. This involves sweeping leg movements. So, I do a lot of kicking the ceiling. Hard.

I don't feel too bad about this, because the people who live upstairs have kids who run back and forth. All. Day. Long. I don't know what precipitates that ping-ponging, but I imagine something along the lines of someone waving candy at one end of the apartment and someone else holding a puppy in the other. Maybe the kids are in training for a very short and repetitive marathon. I don't presume to understand what my upstairs neighbors are up to. All I know is that my every waking moment is filled with the pitter-pat of little feet. Which I want to chippity-chop off.

Since the layout of every apartment in my building is the same, Brad recently pointed out that the room above mine is most likely the kids' bedroom. This means that all of my nighttime kicking registers right below their sleepy little heads.

I remember waking in the middle of the night, mid-dream and sweaty, convinced that the thing chasing me in my nightmare was still, somehow, in close physical proximity. Every creak came from a thousand-year old joint of a ravenous monster concealed just feet away from my exposed toes. I love, love the idea that I am the terrifying thud that came from nowhere in the dark hours after bedtime.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am the monster under the bed.


Blogger secretsekertary said...

hooray! that's awesome! and very evil. do you hit your head on the ceiling if you sit up in bed?

10:29 AM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

Only if I sit up really tall. Mostly I just kick the shit out of it.

10:47 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

How do you kick the ceiling if you can't hit it when sitting up? You must be doing some serious Rockettes shit up in there. However, I do approve of any activity that involves scaring annoying children.

3:53 PM  

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