Wednesday, September 01, 2004

The Devil and the Number 4

Have you ever seen the Devil? Probably not...but did you ever wonder what she would look like? :-) Just kidding. Did you ever wonder what IT would look like?

Hmmm...probably red in color. Maybe some horns. Smoke coming off it's head. Long fangs. Holding a pitchfork maybe. Long tail with an arrowpoint at the end. Laughing constantly. Not the funny laugh - you know - the sinister Dr. Evil type of laugh. Yeah, that's it...perfect picture in your head, right? Scary. I mean, the Devil is representative of all evil...all that is BAD in the world. Calling someone the Devil is the ultimate insult. There is nothing positive about the word at all.

Well, I am here to tell you that the red, pointy-ear picture you all have of the devil is...wrong. It's not true at all. I know - BECAUSE I'VE SEEN IT FOR REAL!

For starters, the Devil is not red at all. It's green. It has no ears, no arrowhead tail, no smoke coming off it. Nope. Wanna know the most interesting part? The Devil is in the shape of the number 4. Just typing that number makes me cringe with fear and gets my adrenaline going. I am starting to sweat.....

No I am NOT in a cult. I don't wear clothespins on my nipples and I don't wear fake fangs and fantasize about biting young, inviting women for their blood....well....not for their blood...........but I digress. The number 4 represents EVIL in the purest form. Here's my case....

Child. Sick. Needy. Fever. Whining. Ear infection. Night night at 7:30 - about 30 minutes earlier than usual. No big deal..I mean, she's coming off an ear infection and she's been cuddling and spending a lot of energy sucking on her pacifier all day. She's tired. Plus, she's only one. It's not like she has spent a lot of time being sick, for crying out loud. So...she's in her crib snoring at 7:30. Elijah to bed at 8:00 as usual. Not sick at all - tired as usual....snoring by 8:15.

Dessert. Mmmmm.....found a new lowfat, low sugar ice cream by Breyers. Chocolate Caramel and it was half price at Super G! Niiiiccccccccee. Delicious. Put on my PJ's. Climb into bed at around 11pm as usual. Watch the news....drift off to sleep around midnight next to my sleeping wife.

Ahhhhhh.....REM sleep. Nothing like it. Through my 37 years of experience, I can safely say that my DEEPEST sleep - the most satisfying sleep of the night is two or so hours before I wake up. I mean - I am GONE - kaput - you could prod me with a hot poker and I ain't waking up. Before that time, I wake up easily. After that time, I pop up instantly. BUT DURING THAT HOURLONG DEEP SLEEP I am, as my Dad would say, a bump on a log.

Midnight. One. Two. Three. Three-fifteen. Three-thirty. Three-forty-five.

FOUR. Deep sleep....dreaming......waaaaaaaaayyyyyy gone. FOUR-FIFTEEN. deep breathing...floating high in the sky....Pam Anderson....naked....starts crying....starts with a whine then to a full blown wail..........wait........don't go - crying surrounding my head....what is happening..........?.............

Open my eyes. In my bed. Pitch black. Crying from Hannah's room....head starts pounding. Instant sinus headache. Deb sits up. I squint to try to see the time as Deb gets up to get Hannah. What are those numbers on the cable box....can't quite make them out through the sleep in my eyes....


I crawl under the covers and start to cry. My body starts to shake. Deb arrives with Hannah and she is wailing. I get up to get a bottle. The floor is ICE COLD and the clock says nothing but a BIG GREEN FOUR. THE DEVIL HAS COME. Ice cubes growing on my feet as I fill an 8 ounce bottle with warm milk. I have to pee. The pain is unbearable. I kick the gate at the kitchen entrance on my way up, breaking my big toe completely off my foot and sending the toe smashing into the front door. I can't find it in the dark. Satan's work. On my way up the stairs, I limp and nearly slip on the tears that are flowing from my sleep-encrusted eyes. I fall forward at the bedside delivering the fix to Deb who quiets the entire universe with a slight pop as the nipple enters Hannah's mouth. I pee for 2 minutes nonstop but dribble on the toilet seat because I thought I was done after 1 minute. I skate on the ice that blankets my feet back to the bed and crawl in.


I am laying in my bed staring at the ceiling with a headache that feels like Regis Philbin is talking with NO filter on my eardrum. Hannah is asleep...soundly...snoring like a baby. I am reading scripture frantically trying to find the prayer that begs God to let you go back to sleep. I don't find it.

Eventually, I DO get to sleep but it's like kissing your sister. A powernap. Uggh. Another one of my least favorite words....NAP. I got up at 4 and then I took a freaking NAP.

My day is shot. Head pounding all day. Fifteen Advil. Just kidding. Fourteen Advil. Dragging my feet and nine toes all day. Brutal.

It takes three or four weeks to recover from that. Therapy is an option but an expensive one. I prefer to use the NEXT evening as a make-up one. I figure a good night's sleep the next night and I can forgive the Devil for visiting me and we can be happy again.

So the next night (last night) I cuddle into bed and drift off to sleep after the Phillies are about to win the World Series....NO!!! THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!!!!! Not again....eyes open...clock - WHERE ARE YOU - rub my numbers.....I see a 10 and I see a ":" before the 10...what's that first get's ice cold in the room as Deb rises to get the bottle....icicles are coming down from the ceiling....suddenly my toe stump is throbbing.....I make out that first number finally...


Satan has returned. Where's my Advil?


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

move over Judy Blume and Erma Bombeck-you are a fantastic writer-take it from someone who wanted to be a writer all her life-excellent post! 4.0-lol