The Jamey Vault: Not-So-Sweet Caroline

Tuesday is a big day for this blog. For some reason, more people tune in on Tuesday than on any other day. Since I noticed this pattern, I’ve felt some pressure on Monday night as I prepare my Tuesday blog entry. My hubris is such that I long to entertain the masses.

So tonight, I’m sitting here, leafing through my list of blog entry ideas, and nothing is popping out as Tuesday material. Nothing’s making the cut. So I crept into the living room and asked my girlfriend, Caroline, to write a Vault entry. However, she was busy making a recipe book while watching Seinfeld, and even though she said she’d write the Vault, she wasn’t really in the mood. So I didn’t push it.

However, I did have a trick up my sleeve (her name is Krystal, and she’s very petite). I asked Caroline if, in lieu of the Caroline Vault, I could write a Jamey Vault—essentially, I could offer the readers an inside scoop on Caroline’s eccentricities. In her hazy, Seinfeld-induced state, Caroline agreed. Thus, a new era has begun. An era of post-shower sweats and Scooby slippers and weird pickled vegetables.

This is the Jamey Vault.

Caroline is an extremely easy-going person. She’ll go along with almost anything, and she rarely—if ever—gets angry over little things. During all waking hours, she’s so friendly and nice and flexible. She’s a great person.

But from the hours of midnight to 8:00 am, it’s like that person never existed.

To put it kindly, Caroline is a fearmonger from hell when she sleeps. I care very deeply for this woman, but when I sleep by her side, literally my only goal is to get through the night without angering her. And without letting the cats anger her.

If I fail in my mission, and Caroline’s sleep is somehow disturbed, she is downright mean. She’ll yell and flail and curse and grunt. She once headbutted me in the face when I tried to kiss her forehead in the middle of the night. Another time, when I tried to wake her up too soon, she punched me in the mouth. Caroline’s not a violent person (The Three Exceptions: When I get in the way of her sleep, when I get in the way of her food, and when she drinks too much), but when she’s asleep, she’s a monster.

Caroline has a very specific position in which she likes to sleep, and it’s near impossible for me to snuggle on her when she’s in that pose. Face down, one arm bent under the pillow, hair everywhere. When she assumes this position, I go to my side of the bed and curl up, because I just can’t get close.

But at least once a night, Caroline will shift to a spoon-friendly position, and I leap at the chance to cuddle. However, it’s always a gamble. Sometimes Caroline’s okay with this arrangement, and she’ll murmur her approval: “Mmm-hmm.” Sometimes, though, I’ll get an “Unn-uhh.” “Unn-uhh?” I’ll respond. “Unn-uhh,” she’ll confirm, and I’ll back away slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements. And other times, she’ll just shout, “No!” That’s a worst-case scenario that I try to avoid at all costs.

Not helping me are the cats, particularly the kitten. He usually likes to settle down at the foot of the bed, but around 5:00 am every morning, he’ll climb up to me to nibble on my chin. It’s very cute, and I permit it to happen. Unfortunately for Caroline, the kitten’s butt is usually positioned directly in front of her face when this happens. If she doesn’t wake up, this is fine. If she does, she’ll push the kitten away and hiss at him, and I resort to damage control. I’ll coo and rub Caroline’s arm in an attempt to ease her back to sleep. When the danger has been averted, I’ll roll over and fall back asleep myself.

The list could go on. I generally like to roll myself in covers like a burrito when I sleep, leaving Caroline with no covers. This really pisses her off, but I can’t help it—I don’t know I’m doing it. So when I wake up to Caroline unfurling me from my burrito womb, I just have to let it happen, lest I be kicked. If I get up to go to the bathroom and find Caroline sleeping in the middle of the bed or on my side of the bed, I just try to fit in wherever there’s space. I really just need to get a trundle bed at the foot at the bed for me to sleep on, like Steve Carrell in The Office.

So that’s the inside scoop on the terror of the night that is Caroline. If you don’t mind, please don’t ever call her in the middle of the night, lest you awaken the beast.