So, Michael Hughes and I stayed up till 3:00am every morning for the last three nights...like we are in university or something.
Like sorority gals.
(For the record he has jumped out of various corners and scared the shit out of me about three times...once I peed my pants a bit...I am 43, after all.)
BUT last night I made a plan to go to bed as early as possible...because we had to get him to the train station at 8:15am-ish.
(He had bought a Balzacs, in advance, for this early morning journey.)
Then at 1:30am I turned to Michael and said, "If you can find something awesome to watch, I will stay up...", and he turned to me from the place he has sat on the couch...for the last three days...and said, "I'm on it!"
Oh Meryl Streep...two movies in one day...It's Complicated...and then the last 45 minutes of effing Devil Wears Prada.
Yes.
Meryl, you are an acting machine.
3:15am we went to bed...the puppies and me in our room and Michael Hughes in the "Sara Farb" room...as he calls it...
Then at about 4:35am there was a holy crash right beside my head...I jerked up in bed...my heart beat through my chest...I thought a plane had flown into the wall beside my bed...
I leaned over and saw the entire end table beside me...and it is huge...on its side...and everything on the ground...my phone in two pieces...my fucking IPAD...everything....and there is Tyson...with the whole night table leaning on his head...you see... this is where Tysons sleeps...
I guess he got up and turned around in his sleep and his collar got caught on one of the door knobs behind him on the side table. The poor thing...I dislodged him, checked him over...gave him a pat and sent him to Cassies' bed (which is twice as big) and then began the job of cleaning up and righting everything.
IPAD...unbelievably fine...Blackberry...fine with a cracked screen....fabulous Babushka lady jar that holds my water...smashed...lamp okay....dogs...shaking...Michael Hughes...asleep.
WHAT THE FUCK??
His room is about 5 feet away from mine.
I cannot believe it.
I go and get a rag and the broom from downstairs...and still cannot believe that he sleeps on.
After I have finished fixing up the room I get into bed and look into the cracked screen of my Blackberry and see that I received a text....I click it.
Here is the exchange.
And if you can't read backwards...here is what it says...
Michael Hughes: Is everything okay?
Sharron : You are a mess...oh my god....
Michael Hughes: Are you sleepwalking? I am scared.
And I starting laughing so hard...so fucking hard...then I went to his room and he looked like Sydney (Neve Campbell) during the last 10 minutes we had watched of Scream 4 two nights previous...
He came out and gave Tyson and Cassie a pat.
He had not heard a thing...until I went downstairs...
I heard him muttering..."Thank god this wasn't a fire drill..."
I don't think my dear Michael is meant for country life.
Like Zsa Zsa.
Here is Michael "playing with Tyson" at the park...
Can you see the fear in his poor face....
But my dear friend Michael was totally game to come up to "Stratford House" as he calls it...and keep me company.
And he did.
And it was a challenging week...I got some shitty news...and Michael kept me laughing and going through it all.
He is a very good friend.
I am sad to see him go.
Don't get me wrong...I am already back in bed and neither of us showered for three days...but I will miss him.
Very much.
Safe travels, Micke.
You deaf son of a bitch.
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