Air conditioner, I love you.
Last night was the first night of the season for our AC to be on and it was the most glorious night of sleep I've had since I discovered Jamocha shakes at Arby's. There's something about the loud whirring white noise that puts me into a coma. The bambino loved it as well, because listen to me now, he's still asleep. Do you understand what it's like to sleep till 9am when that hasn't happened in over a year and a half? It's like chocolate covered strawberries for breakfast followed by banana walnut pancakes swimming in banana butter. (Whoa, I'm heavy into the junkfood analogies this morning, my apologies). I'll I'm trying to say is, hell yes in a handbasket.
Though I drifted off to sleep ticking off dollar amounts that will be reflected on our next Con Ed bill, I don't even care about the money. That's right, it's not your imagination, I said I don't care about going broke to pay an electric bill that is insanely offensively high because of my selfish need to sleep in air conditioned spirituality. It's just the way it is. I'll bitch about paying $1.29 for a fountain diet pepsi at Wendy's, but I will not utter a word about the electric bill in the summer. No, siree. You can't put a price on sleep quality in this house. It's a mythical being right up there with unicorns and no national deficit.
But what makes my day is seeing Griffin's pose of choice during sleep these days. One night he was sleeping scooted all the way up against the end of the crib, with his feet straight up in the air. Another favorite is face down in the mattress on his elbows and knees with his butt up in the air. Two days ago he was completely passed out sitting Indian style. We have one of those video monitors and watching his night time routine is better than 30 Rock. Yeah, I said it. Eat that, Tina Fey.