I've been really good about ONLY taking Ambien if I haven't slept in 5646738756 days. Basically, I take it about once a week and I'm very responsible about getting into bed as soon as I take it, so as not to have any head shaving, dog shaving, eating everything in sight mishaps. (Or texting, phoning, messaging, emailing, Tweeting, FBing, etc.)
(Read: Dan is very responsible about getting me into bed as soon as I take it and keeping me off the phone and out of the fridge and away from the clippers.)
I've been averaging 2-4 hours of sleep a night for the past week and yesterday I finally succumbed to a migraine and exhaustion and took an Ambien at about 8:00. I meandered into the bedroom with the fan, and passed out face down on the bed and slept like the dead.
Dan, being unusually thoughtful and considerate (and really glad that I went to bed early so he could channel-surf to his heart's content, which drives me 100% batshit crazy, and watch the Met's game without me sitting on the couch huffing and puffing and being bored), stayed up until about 10:30 then tip-toed into the bedroom without turning on any lights and apparently passed out next to me.
(Sidebar: Speaking of channel surfing: THIS DRIVES ME NUTS. NUTS. NUTS, I TELL YOU. Dan cannot sit and watch ONE PROGRAM. He watches ALLLLL of them at the same time. I seriously CAN'T STAND IT. And while he's watching umpteen shows, he's also constantly scanning the guide to see if he's missing anything. I'm all, "PICK A SHOW! OH MY GOD! JUST PICK ONE AND WATCH IT!" And he's all, "Why does this bother you?" GAHHHHH!)
I woke up at 2:30, so hot and sweaty that there was literally a puddle between my boobs. (Sexy, right?) I got up, peed, pondered briefly on why it was cooler in the rest of the house than in our bedroom, and went back to bed, pausing briefly in front of the fan to air dry myself.
Ugh. Hot hot hot. No air. Miserable. I kicked off the sheet, flopped around a few times, accidentally knocked Javi off of the bed and elbowed Dan while I was flailing around trying to find a cool breeze. Dan woke up, got up, peed like a race horse (that needed to be said because seriously... WHY DO MEN PEE SO LOUDLY????) and came back to bed, muttering something about it being too fucking hot to sleep.
Eight seconds later he re-commenced snoring and I drifted back off.
At 4:30 I was awake again, sweating like a cold drink on a hot day. I got back up, peed again (I mean, I was awake, so why not? It's kind of my M.O. If I wake up, I pee. Period) and once again stood in front of the fan for a few minutes to cool off and air dry.
Plopped back into bed, trying to figure out why the fan wasn't putting off enough of a breeze to cool us off from less than 5 feet away.
Cursed the fan.
Cursed the heat.
Cursed the bloody Empire State.
Cursed the bloody Empire.
Fell back asleep.
When we got up this morning we bitched and moaned about how miserably hot we were last night, how little Dan slept due to the heat (apparently he snores while he's awake and annoyed about not sleeping), and how we apparently need a new fan because this one? Ain't workin'.
Dan went to work and I went back into the bedroom to grab the fan to bring it out to the livingroom.
Something doesn't seem... right.
Apparently, in my Ambien fog, when I hauled the fan into the bedroom last night and set it up, I pointed it TOWARDS THE WINDOW, so it was blowing air OUT of the bedroom. Every time I got up and cooled myself off in front of it, I was standing between the window and the fan.
Oh my freaking DUH.
Guess what Dan isn't going to hear about this evening...