All the Sleepy Ladies

Naturally, being a high school student, I am sleep deprived. Waking up at 6am for the past four years has really taken a toll on my sleep cycle and overall health. With no time to take naps and my incessant need to watch multiple reality shows on almost every night of the week, I can never find the time to squeeze in some extra Zzz's.
So, whenever the opportunity arrives for me to sleep in..I try to take advantage of it.
However, my family (and basic structure of my house), just never seem to get the memo.
On Friday night, Britni and I attempted to go to sleep around 1am. Relatively a pretty early and reasonable time to go to sleep on a weekend night. Our weary eyes and slurred speech both hinted at our exhaustion. Settling down in the bonus room, the house is quiet (for once) and the fan actually isn't making that annoying clicking sound.
But, there does seem to be a burglar downstairs. Or atleast Britni thinks so.
Being the same level of crazy at my Granny, Britni begins to peer out of the window down onto the driveway. For those of you who don't know, Britni is pretty blind (like myself). She had neither her contacts nor glasses so for all she knew, Steven's tiny (old), white (old), Toyota Corolla was a ginormous polar bear (what's he doing here?). Continuing to insist that somebody is robbing me, I get up an investigate. I check the other windows and overhear the television downstairs. Uhm, I don't think a robber would stop to catch his favorite late night show while trying to steal our stuff.
Convinced that it couldn't possibly be Steven coming home, Britni continues to glance out of the window. She finally calls him and he confirms that it IS him that is home. Honestly the likelihood of somebody trying to steal our 23 year old red dump truck is incredibly low.

Once the burglarly is solved, I figure I can finally get some shut eye.
Steven figured he can finally dust his room.
Brother, you're awesome and I love you, but your room squeeks like the dickens. Its worse than nails on a chalkboard, than Dad's sneezes, than Mrs. Abel, than the Italians at the pool. It is probably my biggest pet peeve. How your room got to this 200 year old haunted house state, I am not sure. One thing I am sure about is I risk suffocation by covering my head with two pillows and a quilt to try and drown it out. Unsuccessfully. Also, around this time, cue the awful fan clicking noise. What have I got myself? A hair-ripping house orchestra.
I finally fall asleep around 2:30am.


Thank goodness Mom likes to wash dishes at 7am.