Spent a few hours last night at Redhook in Woodinville (map). Every Tuesday they host Trivia Night, with prizes of various amounts off the tab for the top-scoring teams. So seven of us left the lab and trooped to the pub to have a pint or two with dinner and trivia, but we didn’t win—we sucked hideously at the series of The Simpsons-related questions. We kinda blew chunks through much of the second half, in fact, but had a damned good time.
We all went our separate ways after the games finished. I left Redhook last of all because I angled off to the restroom as everyone else went out the door; when I got to the parking lot several minutes later, the other six were gone. Off I went, thought nothing more about it.
I got home just after 22:00 and futzed for a while. Didn’t feel particularly wired, not particularly tired either, and under my usual “don’t go to bed until I feel tired” mantra, I finally crawled into the sack just before midnight. By then I was feeling a little droopy-eyed and thought I’d drop off in fairly short order.
Of course the minute my head hit the pillow, I was wide freakin’ awake. By 04:00 I had managed to doze for a total of probably, oh, 12 minutes or so, but I was snapping back awake at the slightest sounds or movements.
My two cats make a lot of slight sounds and movements in the night.
A little after 04:00 I threw in the towel, got out of bed to wander the house like a ghost for a while to see if that would stimulate me to sleep. I went to my office to fire up the laptop and send an email to work: Not sleeping well, I’m turning off my alarm so I expect I’ll be in no later than about 11:00. When I hit Send, the lab’s web email interface timed out as it sometimes does on my PowerBook. I thought nothing of it.
I climbed back into bed a little while later and finally I managed to doze off for good just before 07:00. I woke up a little after 09:30 and just lay there, enjoying the quiet—the cats were past their Bird Hunt hours and with most residents of the apartments already gone to work, there was very little noise, cars or otherwise. Thus it was that I got into the shower at 10:20, finished a bit after 10:30.
I was toweling off when out of nowhere came this terrific banging on my front door. Not the usual polite knock of, say, a delivery driver or the apartment management or similar—no, this was a staccato BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG, obviously meant to get my attention no matter what was happening. Towel around my waist, still dripping, I walked out of the bathroom and leaned over the stairway wall and bellowed, “WHO IS IT?”
No response, but I could hear a voice, either two people on the porch or one on a cell phone. And it sounded like Shannae, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. A few seconds later, more insistent banging at the door, another shout from me, still no response from whomever was rattling my rafters.
So I trooped down the stairs and nearly yanked the door right off its hinges in my irritation to open it and find out what the HELL was going on.
It was Shannae, with her son Austin. They’d been dispatched by Katharine and Michelle and others at the lab who thought perhaps I’d fallen and knocked myself out, or had a heart attack, or was otherwise incapacitated because I hadn’t shown up for work and I hadn’t left any message about why I wasn’t there, nor was I answering my cell phone, and no one had seen me leave the pub last night.
I’d left my cell phone on the bed when I got in the shower, didn’t hear it ringing over the running water.
Shannae was relieved to see me obviously alive and she called Michelle to tell her I was okay. I closed the door and found my cell phone to call Katharine, which is when I found out my message definitely had not made it through. Everyone at the lab had been mildly FREAKING OUT about my unannounced absence, and when I got here about 15 minutes ago I was swarmed under by Katharine and Michelle and several of the project managers in this brief celebration of my return to the land of the living.