My clock radio comes on at seven o'clock and goes off at eight. When I woke up this morning and rolled over to check the time, it took a while to register that it was eight thirty. Either I hit the snooze alarm hard enough that it knew I was really serious, or I was making up for some serious sleep deprivation.
Needless to say, I sprang out of bed, grabbed the cordless phone, and took it with me as I crawled back under the sheet. It was only for another ten minutes, though, and then I was up and going about my morning routine. No stress, that's the new rule, so I wasn't trying to make up for the lost hour. Everything in its time, all in perspective.
As I was getting my body ready to face the rigors of a new day, I felt an odd sensation when I moved my mouth. I felt my chin, and it seemed to have grown overnight to Popeye dimensions. All of a sudden I had some Jay Leno action going. What now, I wondered. How is this deformation related to the near-whatever experience I had the other night?
A whining bug of some kind had been buzzing around my bed last night. I couldn't find it and dispose of it because I couldn't see it without my glasses, and it was, you know, dark. Although I couldn't feel any external sign that I'd been bitten, I suspected as much, and when I shaved (a procedure that took twice as long as normal, due to the extra territory to cover), my suspicion was confirmed. The swollen area was smooth and tender to the touch, exactly what I'd expect from an insect bite.
It didn't itch, though, so I don't know what kind of creature it could have been. Maybe it's still in there, eating its way through to my brain. If so, good luck to it.