You’d think fresh country air would lead to sleeping well

Joey, Adeline and I moved into my parents house for 5 days while our floors were being refinished and they were in New Orleans.

My parents live on an amazing old farm, surrounded by 35 acres, barns and loads of wildlife.

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While there, we relished the scenery. Everyday, we shoveled a path from the driveway to the door, stopped to build snowmen or go for a quick sled ride. Even hauling wood in for the fireplace was a happy chore.

Our first night there, we tucked Addy into bed with little problem, then Joey and I curled up in front of the fire to watch a movie. We sunk into the couch, completely relaxed. And that’s when we were attacked by flies.

I had forgotten that for about a 3-day period, flies randomly begin hatching and buzzing around my parents house. They’re weak and can barely get around and usually die in a day. And they are insanely annoying.

So we’re sitting on the couch and all we can hear is the tap, tap, tap BUZZZZ of flies bouncing in lamp shade. And then I felt one or two land on my head, at which point, we decided to flee to the second floor and uber cozy antique bed, complete with fluffy down comforters and pillows.

We were so excited to relax into the bed and get a good, country-night’s rest. We snuggled in, pulled the blankets up tight to our chins and blissfully anticipated sleep. What a joke.

You see, my father collects antique clocks. Many, many clocks that live all over the house. Nestled in our bed, we became hyper-fixated on the incessant tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, produced by 15 clocks, only to be interrupted by a chorus of BONG, BONG, BONG every 30 minutes as the clocks screamed the time to us every half hour.

By 4 a.m., we were finally drifting off…sleep was close….MEORM, MEORM, MEEEOOOOORMMMM. “Is that the word ‘Mom’ I’m hearing?” I thought to myself. “Is that Addy?”

No. No it was not. It was my parents 15-year-old cat roaming the house meowing his brains out in the world’s most infuriating attempt to get attention. I stuck him in the basement instead.

So while we enjoyed the fresh air and other delights of country living, when bedtime rolled around, we were happy to be back in the “city” of our small town, where clocks don’t tick, flies don’t buzz and cats don’t force you to visit the basement at the crack of dawn.

Just the same, we are grateful to our families for helping us haul furniture with a toddler running around and letting us vacation at their home. Thank you!

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