I have been waking up each morning at precisely 3:15am for the last week or so. I wake up, look at the clock and go right back to sleep. Each time I have been dreaming about the post I am going to write for this blog. Somehow pertaining to the time on the clock. I have no recollection of what the post is to be about except that it is wonderful.

I go through long periods where I don’t remember any dreams. If I didn’t know better I would say I wasn’t dreaming but I know I am. The thing that worries me about this dream and the lack of memory of it is that if you remember the movie Amityville Horror you know all the bad stuff happened shortly after James Brolin started waking up at 3:15am. Apparently that is when all the murders took place in his house.

I’m pretty sure there have been no murders in my house but I haven’t researched it at all. I know I’m the third owner of this house and both of the previous owners moved out rather than were taken out in a body back or in the back of a police car. There are no missing family members.

I do have doors that pop open without any visible sign of someone messing with them but I have a dog and a cat and I blame a lot of things on them. I’m not too worried that I will start hanging out in my basement getting all psycho and ready to chop up my family. Especially now that they are both beginning to do some things for themselves.

This past weekend we worked on the house. I had a desk in the back of my truck since September. I brought it back from the lake when I moved the piano that wouldn’t fit in my house and traded it with the desk. The problem with the desk is that it is too wide to fit in the door that leads up to my office. I knew this when I brought it back from Wisconsin. Like all projects that I take on I figured I figure it out when I got sick of looking out the back of the truck and being unable to see out the back.

My son recently turned 16 and if he is going to drive he needs to see out the back. He had a friends over this weekend so I decided it was time. Also I took the rug that was in my office and moved it downstairs. I still needed a rug upstairs but it didn’t have to be nice. I was going to get a piece of cheap carpet but found two area rugs on sale that worked just as well and I wouldn’t have to do any cutting.

I’m telling you all this because the simplest of projects always turns into a bigger project. In order to get the rugs I needed to use the cargo space of the truck. In order to get the desk out of the truck I needed to get the desk up the stairs. In order to do that I needed to take the trim off the door leading up to the second floor. I didn’t want to take the trim off. I wanted someone else to do it for me. I asked my son and his friend to figure it out. I was leaving to the big box hardware store and was sure they could take care of it while I was gone.

I only got one call while I was away. Son was worried that there would be a lot of paint that came off the trim and was ready to bag the project. I told him I didn’t care about the paint, there was no way it wasn’t going to chip off. We had to get the desk upstairs so he needed to do whatever he needed to do to take care of the job.

I’m tired of thinking things through for him and everyone else. I don’t know how to do these things any better than he might so he may as well give it a go. And I don’t want to watch it happen.

I was surprised to see the desk upstairs and the trim back on the door when I returned. Happily surprised since my son doesn’t always finish what he starts.

Last night as I was shutting off the lights and closing the door to the upstairs I realized that I could no longer close the door. I can close it if I force it but it doesn’t swing shut and latch like it did several hours earlier. I’m going to have to take the trim off again and mess with it until the door shuts right. Which means that until I do this 3:15 am is going to be more disturbing now.