Destructo Girl. That's me.

In the early morning hours it is not unlikely for Glenn and I to wake up and snggle close in the remaining minutes before Bob and Tom start heckling each other with their hyena laughter. *shudders* It is also not unlikely for us to ruffle the sheets as we scooch closer. Quite typically I fall asleep listening to the tv while Glenn tries to calm his inner nightowl. When I slept alone I could not stand any other noise in the room. Even the music from my headphones would have to be turned off, no matter how sweetly Beethoven would speak to me. Now it's not uncommon for me to fall asleep to the narration of the history of concrete or the theme from Cowboy Beebop. What is starting to become common, twice in the last month, is for a certain someone to wait patiently until the early morning hours to spring its attack on me. Glenn or I will give some kind of sign that we have made it through the night (and the thru the melodious tunes of my snores) and so we begin the process of moving closer to enjoy the last thirty minutes. This is when it happens. Not during the first scooch, or the last, but somewhere in the middle. It will wait until the covers are being perfectly ruffled and then SMACK! The remote control will launch its attack and SMACK me right in the forehead while I try to scooch closer to my still drowsy husband. Because of this, I have refused to change it's batteries. Today's title: by Buffy from 'Teacher's Pet'