All the sounds of the earth are like music

Into bed late last night, again. Not my fault this time, someone called late.

beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep...

Slowly clambering out of my underutilised delta wave pool, I slammed my hand down on the bedside table.

"Where is that beeping alarm clock, turn off you beeping little beeping beep!"

My sleep deprived brain slowly drifted to the realisation that I have no alarm clock, and I sat up, not 100 percent certain of where the fuck I was. The light that was peeking through the slats of the blinds on the window to my left, had a faint orange tinge. I'm at home! I mean what are the odds of any place else I'd wake up at having those funky orange blinds that so attracted me to this place.

beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep...

Half awake-ish now, listening to the relentless fucking beep. Realised that there was the growl of engines beneath the beeping, and, as I lay back down, noticed the flashing lights on the ceiling above me. Roadworks, at 3:30am?

beep beep beep beep...

"Are...you...driving...that...fucking...machine...in...reverse!?"

I dragged my darling pillow over my head, and tried to get back to sleep.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep...

KOOKABURRAS, feeling threatened at 3:55am!

Beep beep beep cack cack ooh ooh ooh ooh ahh ahh ahh ahh cack beep beep beep beep...

I decided to take out the kookaburras before they woke anyone else. They were sitting on my balcony, right outside my window. Stumbled out of bed, fumbled with the door, flung open the door, scared the crap out of the noisy little fuckers, who promptly relocated to that gum-tree I love so much, and started up again. I hate that tree; one word for you tree - harvestable.

I climbed back into my lovely bed, and buried my aching head under all the sweet pillows I could reach. Couldn't hear much now, but couldn't breath either...

"Mummy, I'm hungry," floats up the hall, I heard that alright.

"Fuuuuuccccckkkkk!" (into pillows)

"I'm hhhhhuuuuuunnnnnngrrrrryyyyyy!"

I prevented snack by allowing little monkey into my bed. Little monkey has inherited the doona-hog, hopeless bed-companion gene from his father, but can be stilled somewhat with the threat of return to his own bed.

Doona half off, lovely pillows over my somnolent head, little foot on my back, sleep finally claimed me, dragging me back into slumberland with his sticky little feet.

"Mummy, mummy, mummy, muuuuummmmmyyyy!" at 5:15am.

I trudge into her room, pluck her from her top bunk and carry her back to my bed. She emits a stream of questions as we trek past kiddie tents, over soft toys, and on not so soft, hurt-like-hell when you tread on them with bare-feet in the crappy pre-dawn light, toys.

"Don't say floody mummy."

Chastised, I deposit her in my bed, but she spies her tent and pipes up,

"I want to sleep in the tent!
"No."
"I WANT TO SLEEP IN THE TENT!"
"Okay."

In the limited light I watch her little head bob around the side of the bed as she heads for the tent. Inside the tent she carries on a conversation with barbie, and others...

beep beep beep...

I don't linger for long, sleep and I are embracing again.

5:45 am: awakened by giggles, and a small body draped over my face, larger foot kicks hard into my right boob.

Day begins, and sleep again proves that he only likes me when he's been drinking.