Water on the Windowsill

windowsill water

Have you ever seen Clue? At the end it gives you three alternate endings. That’s how I’m going to tell this story.

Let’s start off with a little background. Chris and my bed is up against a window looking over a beautiful view of the valley. We used to have our bed on a frame but we moved the frame into the guest bedroom to put our extra mattress on for when Chris’ family came to visit. So instead of having a headboard in between our bed and the windowsill we just have a big windowsill. It’s a pretty big windowsill so we always keep a glass of water (or two) on it for when we get thirsty in the heat of the middle of the night. (Yeah I know it’s December but I think we have the heat on too high or something because I always wake up in the middle of the night completely parched because of the heat.) And obviously we can’t get up and get water in the middle of the night because monsters. duh.

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SO last night we had two glasses of water sitting on  the windowsill above our bed, one from several nights ago that didn’t get drunk (drank? drinked?)…that no one drank (there we go).

Chris has to get up at 5:30AM (a whole hour before me). And I can tell that he’s jealous that I get to sleep a whole hour longer than him. So this morning he woke up in a fit of jealousy. “Why do I have to get up an hour earlier than she does?! How is this fair?!” He thought in that cute little head of his. That’s when the wheels started turning. “You know what, it’s not fair. She should wake up right now…with me.” And with that he dipped his fingers in one of the cups on the window sill and flicked some water on my face.But that didn’t do the trick. I’m a deeper sleeper than that. Well then he got frustrated at that point, and took it to the extreme. He picked up the cup in his fist full of rage and then he proceeded to pour it on my head. The water was very cold. I sprung out of bed, just as he wanted and yelled to first word that came to my head which just happened to be the ‘S’ word.

“SOCK!”

“That’s what you get for sleeping an hour later than me.” Then he got up, stormed out of the room and headed off to work.

That’s how it could have happened…

…But what about this?

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We went to bed at a reasonable hour and, like always, Chris got a cup of water to put on our windowsill for those scratchy throat kind of nights. And lalala we fell asleep. Then in the middle of the night (what actually constitutes the ‘middle’ of the night? Does it depend on when you go to bed and when you wake up? Because technically most people consider the early AM’s the middle of the night but obviously that’s actually the morning. Well all I know is at this point I had been sleeping for several hours at least.) I arose to hear such a clatter. And there in the middle of my bedroom was a small furry green monster. His eyes were yellow and he reminded me a lot of another furry green monster with a heart two sizes too small. Well I immediately pulled the covers up to my chin (because everyone knows that monsters are afraid of covers, why else do we always pull them up over our heads when we’re scared?) and I yelled, “I knew you were real! This is why I never get up in the middle of the night!”

Then, as though he had just noticed me, the little monster got a smile on his face showing off his jagged teeth full of holes and little bugs that skittered in between each yellowed tooth. I couldn’t stand the terrifying look on his face, so I pulled the covers the rest of the way over my head, but the blankets didn’t seem to phase him as I had hoped they would. The next thing I knew I could feel his little hands hoisting himself up onto the foot of the bed, then slowly but surely he pattered his way up the center of the bed in between me and Chris (who was asleep through the whole thing). When his little feet reached the level of our shoulders I could see little claws poke through my blankety shelter where I was still hiding. And then with a little bounce, he jumped onto the windowsill and I can only imagine that he somehow flew through the glass of the window and outside. However in the process of getting through the window, I imagine this to be a tedious task…even if the little thing did have some sort of magical power that granted him the ability to do so, he kicked over the glass of water which splashed all over me.

“SALT!” I exclaimed, as the icy cold water droplets worked their way from my sopping hair down my forehead and began to drip off my nose.

“Jocelyn! Watch your language!” Chris said. Sure, now he’s awake. Trust me yelling the word salt to wake him up but not a freaky little monster crawling on our bed.

That might have been how I ended up sopping wet in the middle of the night/ early AM…

but this is what really happened.

What really happened

It was a night like any other: no little monsters or vindictive husbands. Chris and I went to sleep, not especially excited about the next day since it only meant more school and work and overall BLAH. Nonetheless we went through our whole night routine, complete with at least three cups of water sitting on our windowsill. Thankfully only one of them actually had water in it. As tends to happen during the sleep cycle, Chris began to dream. There he was in some epic battle fighting who knows what (I wasn’t there myself) and naturally he was winning…he is my husband after all. And then the battle came down to him and the ultimate person to defeat, if this were a video game he’d be fighting the boss, an over sized ogre type thing wearing little clothing but with a huge club, and Chris would only have his pillow to fight with; it was a dream after all. Then suddenly Chris realized the only way to defeat the horrendous thing… he held tight to his pillow and threw his arms over his head preparing to beat the ogre with it, but before he could let the beating commence, he woke up to a loud,

“SNOW!” I yelled as I got over the shock of the freezing cold water. Chris of course was as dry as can be. I had to completely change my clothes. Then, since the bed was so wet, we moved into the guest bed room to sleep for the remainder of the night.

Epilogue

Unfortunately, we did not learn our lesson. Chris figured since he was the one who had splashed the water on me, if we just moved the water on my side of the windowsill it would be fine. Naturally a couple nights later I woke up once again to a cold shower of water on my head, this time from my own hand. Who knew that we both tend to randomly throw our arms over our heads in our sleep. I was in such a daze afterwards, still half asleep, that I just rolled of the end of the bed and went back to sleep in a ball on the floor, mumbling about being damp and confused (new movie title). And once again, Chris was completely dry.

Needless to say…we don’t put water on the windowsill anymore. Ever.