No, I'm not a morning person.  It's just been a very disturbing morning. I tossed and turned all night because before bed, Kim and I turned out all the lights and finished that new creepy show on Netflix, The Watcher. It's an excellent series, one of those that's so captivating and thrilling that, like Lays potato chips, you can't stop at one. I'm not going to spoil anything, but it ended with a cliffhanger, multiple nosy neighbors with the ability to appear in the main couple's house in the middle of the night. Creepy.

      So, of course, I bring my phone to bed and have to look up the real story of the massive, Victorian home in New Jersey, so elegant that people would just stare at it from the street. But it had a scary secret. These are not things you should research right before a long winter's nap. Even under the safe, weighted comfort of the cozy down comforter. It's just not a good mix.

       Why? Because we live in the woods. There are noises. Branches dropping on the tin roof, animals howling in the distance, and our home is in no way air tight. It was built by two brothers and a dad, who were not construction engineers but pharmacists. When we knocked out a wall during renovations, we discovered a base beam made out of an old railroad crosstie. At least it wasn't Legos. There are many ways for the creepies to get in. It's just part of living here.

       It rained all day yesterday, so my hair was larger than usual. In fact, I could have been mistaken for the third, lost member of Simon and Garfunkel because my nest was so full and poofy. Humidity makes porous curls grow up and out. All curly heads know this. Yesterday was a day I just gave in and let my big, wild locks remain free. Why fight it all of the time?

       All night, it felt like I was in that half sleep, where you're kind of dreaming but you must have gotten some rest because time did go by. I'm still dreaming of The Watcher, not peaceful, rest assuring thoughts, but haunted, creepy thoughts. That's when I feel something clambering through my big nest of hair. I give it a shake on the pillow and try to go back to sleep. Obviously, my dreams are coming to life and it's affecting me physically. In an hour or so, it happens again and the third time I jump out of bed, flip on the light switch, and start tossing the pillows on the ground. I know something is after me, I can just feel it. Is it The Watcher? It's five o'clock in the morning and I'm in a fearful tizzy of hours of non sleep and fear of what's lurking in the dark, when I pull the covers back and a hard-shelled beetle gets flung from the covers and scurries to the floor. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH. There was something after me, making his home in my nest all night. CREEPY!

       I'm imagining I'm screaming because I don't want to wake up my daughter at five in the morning. Obviously, we're going to have to sell the house because is there enough dietomacious earth or crawling bug spray to conquer something as disturbing as this? I am living The Watcher. I can't go back to bed, now I'm pacing around the living room. What is the solution? I just don't know. I stepped on the bug with my hard slipper sole, but still, it's been an utterly disturbing morning. Maybe I'm overreacting, maybe I didn't get a good enough sleep, maybe I just need a cup of coffee.