As Angels Laugh From Above

3:25am is much different than 3:25am a month ago. I am parched. Falling asleep after a late dinner of salty prosciutto and no regard to a pre-sleep mouth cleaning is recipe for disaster. As I try and wake up the faculties of my body, the saliva and orientation processes are taking up the rear. I need water. Now. An early morning bathroom run is quite elementary and automated, but a trek to the kitchen becomes an endless, blind gauntlet of plush and blunt obstacles. Living in an apartment with your same kind makes these trips less of a worry. However, on this and previous successive nights this past month, a familiar, but unnecessary object weighs in the balance. A woman. I, like most creatures of my specimen, prefer comfort. But on this unusually warm Spring night, comfort consists only of the most intimate of undergarments. Too thirsty to retreat back to bed and too lazy and disoriented to find anything more modest to wear, my stealth tactics are heightened and I vow to slip past the villain unnoticed. Walking barefoot at such a slow, calculating pace brings me to the urgency of sweeping in the not-so-distant future, as indeterminable particles stick to my clammy feet. I continue past the couch as the hum of my breathing synchronizes with that of the sleeping woman. Gliding towards the kitchen I slowly open the fridge, but my attempt is thwarted by the extreme bond between the door and the body. As the door finally comes ajar, a magnificent light illuminates the kitchen as well as the living room area. All breathing stops as a faint "hello?" breaks the deafening quiet. "It just me grabbing some water, " I mumbled as she begins to find focus in her eyes. I finish my water and dawdle for a few minutes. All that separates my half nakedness and an alert woman was a kitchen island. Valuing sleep more than this awkward, surprisingly cold condition, I garnered courage to return to my home base. I shut the fridge door as the pitch black night came upon us again. Looking down at myself, I see an excellent job of bleaching, as my undergarments are a pristine, almost luminescent white. I shake my head and make a run for it. As I swiftly run past her I yell, "Goodnight" and "Ouuuuuuch!!!" at precisely the same time. Merde. A blunt object. She turns on the light as a pool of blood surrounds my big toe. Full of panic, she runs to my aid as I miserably fail to wake up from this nightmare. She bandages my toe as I simultaneously bandage my pride in a pair of tighty whiteys. 3:25am is much different than 3:25am a month ago.