Chatter in the Night

It always happens in the middle of the night.
Charlie noticed it, first, immediately bringing it to my attention by frantically walking all over my face. He is a small dog, but, nonetheless, it is somewhat disconcerting to wake up to.
I tried to ease his fear by putting my hand on his back,
telepathically sending him "calm vibes", but it didn't work. His entire body trembled.

This isn't going to go away, I thought. I am going to have to fix this. 

I fumbled around on the nightstand for my glasses, and gracelessly forced myself into a standing position. Now, both dogs were awake. Max, however, was completely unbothered by the annoying disturbance. Any time his people are moving about means the possibility of playtime or outside time - the two things he lives for.

Leaving the dogs in the bedroom, I began my search on the main level, slowly lurking from room to room. I cautiously listened upstairs, but the noise seemed to be moving further away. I made my way toward the basement. It was definitely coming from down there.
Finally, I found the culprit, and I stared it down.
Or, should I say "stared it up", as I was clearly staring at the ceiling.

You little SHIT, I thought to myself.

I went back upstairs and grabbed the stool, from the kitchen. Back into the bedroom, I went to the drawer in the hutch that contained batteries. I could not remember which type this particular problem required, so I gathered a bunch. Tools in hand, in my sock-covered feet, I marched back downstairs. I set my batteries on top of a dusty chair that was conveniently located within reach. I unfolded the (one and a half foot tall) stool, and stepped my (five foot, two and a half inch tall) frame on top. Arms, stretched above, there was still no way I was going to reach that thing.

Sigh.

I went back upstairs, and back into the bedroom. I hovered over Mike, willing him to wake up. Clearly, I needed to work on my telepathic skills.
I gave him a little poke, and said (in a pathetic, "I give up" kind of way),

"I need your help. I can't do this."

Apparently, he was already aware of the problem. I mean, I don't know how he couldn't have been, but the man can sleep through anything. He slowly stood up, without question.

"I have a stool, and batteries," I told him.

"We need a 9 volt," he said.

9 volt. Of course, I said to myself.

I went back to the hutch and was able to find one hiding out at the back of the drawer.
Mike, the dogs, and I went down to the basement to take care of the problem.
Five minutes later, we were all back in our beds. The problem had been resolved, Charlie was no longer walking all over my face, and there was silence. 

Until . . .  

"You realize," I said, "all of the other ones are going to start chirping, too."

"Huh?" Mike asked.

"The smoke alarms. Once one battery dies, they all die," I responded.

"Yep. Better replace them all, soon," he said.

"I'll buy more batteries, tomorrow," I said.

"Okay. Good night. I love you. No more talking," he said.

"Okay. Good night. I love you, too," I replied. 

And, there was no more chatter, in the night. 

Hearing the Quiet - Taking a Break from Facebook

I know, I know, lots of people do it.
And, it's not as if this is some profound statement/action that should be recognized as such.
I have, also, completed my first week of my six week exercise challenge -
   20 minutes of power walking, and at least 20 push-ups a day for 6 days, each week,
which is way more impressive than refraining from wasting away hours on a social network site. 

Anxiety is what led me to do it.

I did not realize how much Facebook was contributing to my anxiety, until I left it.
It has only been a week, and my brain feels so much more. . . quiet. 
And, when I have a thought worth sharing, I share it with my husband,
or with other tangibles in my life, instead of throwing it out there and seeing where it sticks.

The thing is, I always felt like I had a healthy relationship with Facebook.

For me, it was mostly a creative outlet -
   a place where I could post my daily photos, and random thoughts about life.
I tried to keep it light and fun, though I would occasionally slip up and let my emotions,
my personal, or my political beliefs get the best of me, which I would usually regret.
For the most part, though, if I enjoyed something, or if I saw humor, or beauty,
   if something made me think, or if I saw irony, or if I learned something,
or if there was something I was proud of, I would share it.

I enjoyed others who used Facebook in the same way. 

But, I increasingly saw lots of posts that made me feel much like I was reading through
   my old high school year book. I did not enjoy high school.
There were parts of it, and people whom I enjoyed, but in general, high school made me anxious.
I spent most of my teenage years in it, and yet, very little of it seemed REAL.
Much like how I started to feel about Facebook. 

I am under no illusions.

I have only been away for a short time, and though I am in no hurry,
   I know I will eventually return. Good, bad, or otherwise,
Facebook is the place where people communicate important information and events.
I missed one notification, already. Good thing I know people who are still on Facebook,
   with whom my only communication isn't through Facebook.

If I were on Facebook, today, I would probably post a photo, or a video
of the snow that is gently falling. It is a lazy, Sunday afternoon; even the dogs are napping.
I am doing some writing,
   everything is still, and. . . quiet.