Unrestful

3 AM: Alex wakes up and has a long and, apparently, invigorating conversation with the toys in his crib. I glance at the clock, groan, and put my pillow over my head. Eventually, Alex settles whatever discussion is taking place, and goes back to sleep.

4 AM: I am robbing a vault. Looks kind of like a bank vault, but it's not a bank. I'm with a team of other thieves. They're waiting -- patiently, but tensely -- for me to finish opening the smaller safe that's inside the vault. I cut and splice some wires, check the readout... Should be good. "Here goes nothing." I touch a pad... and an alarm sounds.

"Crap. Crap! Fuck! Shit!" We look around wildly, and I check the map in my head: We have most of a minute before the guards will arrive, so we can- the door is closing automatically. "Out! Out! Out!" My compatriots run, slip through -- but then the closing crack is too narrow for me. I'm locked in the vault. "Well... shit. What now?"

The guards are coming. I start working on a plan.

5 AM: Alex sounds a barbaric YAWP. He doesn't sound upset. It's not crying. Just a single, long loud noise, a declaration of existence. And wakefulness. I wait a few moments in the dark, listening, but apparently the noise summed up everything he wanted to communicate, because he's quiet, again.

5:30 AM: The vault door opens. Two guards are pointing guns at me. I squeak, and then sag with feigned relief. "Oh, thank god!" I breathe, and launch myself on wobbly legs toward them. "I was working late, and I just walked by and he grabbed me and shoved me in here and-" I'm carrying my purse. Why did I bring my huge clunker of a purse on a robbery? No idea, but it lends verisimilitude to my story. Anger at my failure to finish the job rushes over me, and I let it summon tears. "I was so scared!" I gasp.

It isn't quite a lie. I wasn't scared before, but I am now. The guards aren't stupid. They'll keep me around while they investigate. If the other thieves didn't lay enough of a trail as they left for the guards to find -- or if they left too much of a trail -- then I'm cooked.

6 AM: A metallic scream or squeal -- a screal? It stretches on and on. "What the hell-?" Matt gets out of bed and turns off his radio alarm. Apparently, it was a commercial sound effect. At least, I hope it was a commercial sound effect, because if it was meant to be music, it failed.

I'm not feeling very well-rested this morning.