We had a lovely day yesterday, as I reported in my previous post. Around, 9 PM, having watched the Boston Red Sox slaughter the Detroit Tigers 20-4, and after a lovely dinner, we decided it was time to climb into our "upper berth."
We took the dogs out for their evening duty, and then got ourselves ready for a long repose. We craweled into bed. Lulu spent some time loving us up, and then she crawled into her little bed which is next to my side of the bed. Pogo, as always, snuggled up between us. Soon, the old blogger was in dreamland.
The next thing I knew, Pogo was sitting on my head, shaking like one of those old time spot reducing machines and panting as if she had just run a marathon. I must have made some comment, because Jill said, "Poor Pogo, the thunder is worrying her." I didn't even know there was thunder, and then there was a brilliant flash through the overhead hatch. A few moments later, a long, rolling rumble passed over us, and Pogo turned the spot reducer up to "High."
For several minutes, Pogo panted and shook. Soon, I noticed a puddle on the top cover of the bed from her drooling. After several minutes of trying to calm her down, we heard a crash, followed by the sound of running water.
OK, that's it, I'm getting up. Jill turned on the overhead light and I leapt out of bed (as best I could, given that getting out of bed means slithering down to the end and stepping down a couple of feet). I went to the galley, where I found that the cutting board, which had been standing on edge next to the sink, had fallen over, hit the water tap and turned on the hot water. OK, that was easy to fix. I got back into bed; we turned out the light, and tried to go back to sleep.
I think it was about that time that the rain began falling in earnest (and also in Woodland). Pogo was a basket case. After a while, Jill had had it. She took Pogo down to the dinette berth and they proceeded to settle in there.
I began to doze again. Then my phone rang. Now, to me, a phone call at 2 AM is never good news. This one turned out to be a cheerful man with a distinctly British accent. After a moment of my trying to make sense of who this was, and why he was calling in the middle of the night, he said, "I'm calling about your RV." I told him the RV has already been sold, and he said, "Right, then, cheeri-o." When we got up this morning, I looked at the phone number. The call had come from Isle of Man. For those of you who are geographically challenged, like your old blogger, Isle of Man is in the middle of the Irish Sea! I guess I had better check Craig's List to make sure I cancelled the ad for Sadie!
OK. Now for some real sleep. I began to doze again. Then I awakened to the following: a low rumble (a ship going up the river?), a train whistle (on the far side of the river), a shudder (Topper was being jostled), and the sound of a sail flapping wildly in the wind ( I knew I should have rolled up the awning before going to bed.) I lay there trying to ignore all this stuff, but eventually visions of a shredded awning flapping along behind us as we tootle down the highway to our next destination overcame my desire for sleep.
I got up and went out in the wind and the rain and rolled up said awning (for only the second time since we have had Topper) with a bit of difficulty. Jill thanked me, for she, too, was concerned, and I returned to my bed. At long last I fell into the arms of Morpheus not to awaken again until 7:30! Surprisingly cheerful, I got up and discovered that Jill was in the same condition: tired, but not exhausted or grumpy.
Jill made some coffee, and then we took the girls out for their morning business, a very successful venture. And here I sit writing to you, gentle reader, while my bride is in the kitchen preparing something that features a heavenly aroma for my breakfast.
Sweet dreams!
No comments:
Post a Comment