How could I forget to tell you this? How could I forget to tell you about The Endlessly Moaning Woman of Bear Valley? She haunts me still, my friends.
She haunts me still.
On our first night, I went to bed at 11:30, but the high altitude situation had transformed me into a coughing, wheezing, stick-straight-haired, dry-eyed, and super thirsty she-beast. As a result, I was up and down a few times, most notably at one in the morning to down an entire bottle of water. An hour later I thought I heard Lea calling for me from the adjoining room. I put my ear to the door, but only heard the static drone of the noisemaker that she's used since she was a baby. Just to be sure, I cracked the door open, only to find all three kids fast asleep. I heard the sound again, and thought it must be an injured Creature Of The Snow. And so I tiptoed to the window and peeked outside expecting to see a limping, possibly bleeding...I don't know...wolf? But there was nothing but snow.
By now, the sound was a clear and rhythmic moaning punctuated by shrill little screams. "Oh, no," thought your Nesting Ground Mistress, blushing in the darkness and miserable in her sleeplessness. "Is it not enough that I'm dehydrated, coughing, and generally miserable? Must I also endure your OBVIOUSLY exaggerated physical pleasure?" In an effort to interrupt the woman's ecstasy—just enough to make her stop screaming, mind you—I stomped on the floor a few times. Her response? A veritable aria.
I'm not one to begrudge a consenting adult her...stuff. However, I believe that consenting adults also have a responsibility not to awaken innocent bysleepers with their madcap frolicking. But never mind. SURELY she would be finished in a moment and then I could go back to sleep. Meanwhile, I returned to bed and attempted to wrap my whole pillow around my head so as to block out the ever more dramatic sound effects. This did not work. Despite the padding I could hear her baying at the moon, her squealing at the ceiling, her hooting, hollering, and hallelujah-ing. I, on the other hand, was praying for mercy. And then...at last...she stopped. I freed my head and was just about to drift off when...she started in again.
I was so tired in the morning. But not—I'm very, very sure—as tired as The Endlessly Moaning Woman of Bear Valley.