I live on Sesame Street

Yesterday, I went out to my car to head to work only to find that I had left my driver side window down for overnight. There were 12 hours that my car was parked on the street, unoccupied, for thieves to steal from it or vagrants to sleep in it. (And by vagrants, I mostly mean people like my friend Johnny who once slept in an unlocked car when he was living in Portland, Oregon. He was so drunk that he couldn't find his way home, he decided instead of searching any longer he would just try to find an unlocked car. Which he did. Well done, buddy.)

I checked all the "valuables" that were in my car, and all were still present. (I guess people aren't really into burned CD mixes or empty McDonalds takeout sacks.) It didn't appear that any slumber parties took place in my back seat. Wow. What a safe neighborhood I live in!

As I'm leaving my apartment this morning, I check my hair in the mirror, and reach for the doorknob and notice that I had not locked my apartment door last night before bed. Oh well, I must have locked the front door at least, right? Wrong. Both doors remained unlocked. I think tonight I am going to leave all the doors wide open with a neon sign pointing to our place that reads, "COME ON IN AND ROB US." We're totally asking for it.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Now Playing: "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova

Hush little baby, don't say a word

I woke up the other night and found myself fumbling around at my dresser, trying to get in my closet. My foot was tangled on my bedsheet, and knocked my TV and DVD remotes off my bed and onto the floor with a nice plastic-y crash. That is how I woke up. I had been sleepwalking. Again. Oh, and I can't find the godamn back to my TV remote which allows the batteries to stay in place. I'm not duct taping it. Not this remote.

For as much as I love to sleep, (I'm the longtime Mayor of Nap City, afterall) I have some really strange sleeping habits. I sleep with four pillows, encasing me like downey bookends. I am a roller and a kicker and sleeptalker and sleepwalker. I sleep sitting up and have scared the crap out of college roommates who I didn't bother to give a heads up. I snore because, apparently, I'm a bit of a mouth breather. It concerns me that I might actually have sleep apnea. But since I don't go to the doctor, score prescription antibiotics like I'm scoring heroin, and am about 6 months late for my yearly gynie appointment, I'm not getting anything checked out in the near future. Dying in my sleep from stopping breathing doesn't concern me as much as dying in my sleep by sleepwalking into oncoming traffic.

As a kid, I'd walk around my parents' house and talk to them in my dream induced state. They would lead me back to bed and I'd usually talk some gibberish about my dad needing to "check the wally on my dresser." Weird. Then we'd all laugh about it the next morning. I thought I had stopped this common, yet odd behavior. That is, until I graduated from college and twice woke up in places where I had not initially laid my head. One time I woke up in a fairly dangerous place; the other time I was in a really awkward place. Both times I was in Cincinnati. Both times I was really drunk. I was just going to blame it on booze and the Ohio River. It made sense.

Now it seems I am sleepwalking again, which I'm not quite sure if I should look at it as dangerous or as an adventure. It depends on where I wake up and what I'm wearing, I guess. My mom has started sleep eating in the past year. She's tiny and has a good metabolism, so she can afford to plow through an entire box of Wheat Thins or half an apple pie. I hope that isn't in my future. I don't have enough food in my fridge to eat when I'm awake, let alone in REM sleep.

Anyway, I'm back for the time being until I get busy at the office.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Now Playing: "Purple Rain" by Prince