Purgatory

When I last posted on Monday night, I was hunkered down, waiting for Hurricane Sandy's imminent arrival.  When we went to bed that evening, it had already been raining forever and the winds were starting to pick up speed.  We decided to sleep in the basement, thinking we'd be safer there when the big huge pine tree in the front yard (the one that I've refused to have cut down) got uprooted and fell into the house.

So, downstairs we went.  I hopped into one of the two twin beds in our spare bedroom and tried to will myself to sleep.  It took a little while since, not only was I unable to spoon, I also didn't have my flannel sheets.  I shivered pathetically on my own, hugged myself, and finally fell asleep.

At some point, I woke up.  It was pitch dark.  I lifted my head to see what time it was and saw that the clock was dead.  The power was out.  I cursed audibly and put my head back down on the pillow (which, quite honestly, was way too big and fluffy for my liking).  There I lay for the rest of the night, waiting for the crack of dawn.

What do you do while you're lying in bed in the dark while the power is out?  You want to know what I thought about?  I spent the entire time reliving the Penn State - Ohio State game from two nights earlier.  "What if Matt McGloin had completed that first long pass to Allen Robinson?"  Certain victory.  "What if Stephen Obeng-Agyapong had made that pick six in the first quarter?"  Even more certain victory.  "What if the official hadn't called that phantom holding call on Brad Bars in the second quarter?"  Complete domination, of course.  On and on it went.

After spending what seemed like an interminable amount of time revisiting my Penn State disappointment, I finally got out of bed.  I walked upstairs, found my cell phone, and saw that it was 5AM.  I peeked out the dining room window and saw that the pine tree hadn't fallen.  I should have been happy, right?  Not me.  I just cursed again, thinking of how I could have slept in my flannel sheets after all.

For two more hours, I paced.  Literally.  First floor.  Upstairs.  Repeat.  It all started to remind me of Hannah's infancy, when we thought that she had to fall asleep in our arms before we could put her to sleep in her crib.  Round and round I'd walk around our small house, covering every square foot and praying to God that she'd soon fall asleep.  Invariably, she'd trick me by slowing her breathing and convincing me that I could put her down.  I'd get excited, creep to her crib, lean over and start to place her on the blanket.  "Waahh," she'd cry and back to pacing I'd go.

Finally, it started to get light.  It was still rainy and windy outside.  And, there was still no power.  But, with the light, the Penn State demons and the pacing stopped.  For a little while, at least. 

P.S.  This was a very hard post to write.  Why?  Because I don't know if I was lying in bed thinking or laying in bed thinking?  I think I was lying in bed thinking but I can't be absolutely sure.  Hopefully, I got it right.  I know some of you out there will comment if I got it wrong.