Sneakers. For sneaking.

You wake up, it’s early, there’s someone in your house you don’t want to wake up – be it the beast/person in your bed, a parent, housemate or whatever else could possibly be in your house (that you don’t want to wake up). Obviously you’re supposed to be quiet at this point. It is, after all, early – or maybe it’s not early, and it’s just they’re working nights, or they’re lazy and you fear their temper, or you’re trying to sneak out because they smell of burnt cheese.

Anyway, you have a reason to want to keep quiet. That’s what I’m saying here. You have woken up and you don’t want them to also be woken up. Simple. Yes? With me? Right.

Every time I try and do this my body seems to make it my mission to do the exact opposite of what I intend. Years ago when my dad would be sleeping and I’d have to sneak around to not wake him up my brain would (probably intentionally) forget which were and weren’t the creaky floorboards, and make me step on the ones that made the loudest noise. He didn’t wake up, mind, as a herd of nuclear-explosion-farting wildebeest charging through his room with air horns erupting from their nostrils wouldn’t wake that man when his head touches pillow.

I awoke the other morning in order to go to work, where my job is, where I get paid a bit of money for a very silly reason (I was playing a Star Wars game all day today). Darling Sweet Girlfriend was still snoozing in my bed, so I knew I had to make it my mission to tread quietly and carefully, as well as to avoid any obstacles. One step later I had fallen over the giant beanbag in my room and clattered onto my weak, painful ankle, whereby I remarked to the world around me that this had caused me pain (i.e. “OW”). It was something that has never happened to me before, yet when I’m trying to be quiet it does. Fortunately not even a mallet to the noggin could wake Darling Sweetheart Girlfriend when she is doing a sleep. I know. I’ve tried.

I will have to attend some kind of ninja school in order to get my quietness seen to. After all, I’m very good at sneaking by accident, but when I try and do it where it matters I always end up falling, creaking, clattering or hearing my knees click really loud.

That is all.

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1 Comment

Filed under Prattle

One response to “Sneakers. For sneaking.

  1. Anna

    I always wake up when you leave, so I can wave you off with *somewholesomeshithereprobablyinvolvingoatsohgodnotgoats*. AND you said a snoring girlfriend was the most comforting noise evah.

    Plus you woke me, I’d cry, snot a bit, and go back to sleep without remembering a thing. So totes not worth the sputum.

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