It's too quiet out here. Granted, Pawnee is not exactly a bustling metropolis, but it is always bursting with activity regardless of the hour. It could just be that Ann has become accustomed to her erratic schedule since taking on her position at City Hall and her biological clock is still tuned to the emergency room's late night shift; it could also be that Tom's snoring, though quite faint by the time it echoes down from the top bunk, is just enough to keep yanking her back from the sweet edge of sleep every time she draws near. Whatever the reason, the silence that falls on the lake house after midnight leaves Ann feeling uneasy. Even with - or maybe especially with - her eyes closed, the air around her feels thick and heavy, as if weighed down by all the troublesome thoughts that come out to play at the precise moment when one has decided to try and rest. She opens her eyes and chooses a fixed spot on the wooden bed frame above to stare at, her elbows outstretched and palms tucked behind her head. Tom's breathing grows louder by the second. She takes a deep breath and releases it with a sigh, collapsing even deeper into the mattress as she does. Nope, still not feeling relaxed.
Eventually, she waves her imaginary white flag and gives up on chasing sleep. She climbs out of the bottom bunk as quietly as is humanly possible in an unnaturally quiet old house where even the window treatments creak. At the door, she spares a final glance back to make sure that Tom is still fast asleep behind his Sleep Therapy sleep mask from Sharper Image, which he boasted about for a full five minutes after lights out before finally dozing off. It's chillier out in the hall and Ann, still groggy from non-sleep, didn't have the presence of mind to grab a pair of socks or sandals. In an effort to remain weightless and silent, she balances down the hall on the balls of her feet, relaxing only when she's reached the common area. Dark as it is, she can still make out Leslie fast asleep on Jerry's sweater vest and wonders whether it's her duty as best friend to wake the blonde up. Maybe later; right now she just looks so peaceful.
In the stillness, she can make out few distinct sounds, but one that travels softly from somewhere in the house is the unmistakable hum of an appliance hard at work. It's not the dishwasher - she's standing just outside the kitchen now - and Ann can't remember whether Donna mentioned a washing machine. She did, however, mention a Meagles-only hot tub, and although she was disappointed when denied usage earlier in the day, now it represents the possibility of someone else in this house being awake. Hanging out with Donna always makes her feel more awkward than she should, but it's someone to talk to, and she's not in a position to be excessively picky. So, she ventures out onto the porch, furiously rubbing her arms against the sudden chill, and circles the house until she finally comes upon the hot tub deck. None of the outdoor fixtures are turned on, but the underwater lights are enough that Ann can make out exactly who is in the tub, and that it is definitely not a Meagle.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping off, like, a bottle and a half of champagne?" questions Ann. In response, April performs one of her trademark gestures, simultaneously rolling her eyes and shrugging. Ann wonders why she asked in the first place, what sort of response she was expecting. "Okay, whatever, I'm going back inside," she says, assuming that April wants to be left alone. "But you should get out of there before Donna sees you and throws a fit."
Another Ludgate™ eye-roll. "Ooh, I'm so scared," she says in an almost sing-song voice, shaking her hands wildly in the air for emphasis. Then she sits up and attempts to look stern, or perhaps just constipated. "I'm Ann, head nurse of St. Boringsville's Hospital for Boring People and I always follow the rules! Say, doctor, how long 'til I can finally get that personality transplant I desperately need?"
It's too quiet out here. Granted, Pawnee is not exactly a bustling metropolis, but it is always bursting with activity regardless of the hour. It could just be that Ann has become accustomed to her erratic schedule since taking on her position at City Hall and her biological clock is still tuned to the emergency room's late night shift; it could also be that Tom's snoring, though quite faint by the time it echoes down from the top bunk, is just enough to keep yanking her back from the sweet edge of sleep every time she draws near. Whatever the reason, the silence that falls on the lake house after midnight leaves Ann feeling uneasy. Even with - or maybe especially with - her eyes closed, the air around her feels thick and heavy, as if weighed down by all the troublesome thoughts that come out to play at the precise moment when one has decided to try and rest. She opens her eyes and chooses a fixed spot on the wooden bed frame above to stare at, her elbows outstretched and palms tucked behind her head. Tom's breathing grows louder by the second. She takes a deep breath and releases it with a sigh, collapsing even deeper into the mattress as she does. Nope, still not feeling relaxed.
Eventually, she waves her imaginary white flag and gives up on chasing sleep. She climbs out of the bottom bunk as quietly as is humanly possible in an unnaturally quiet old house where even the window treatments creak. At the door, she spares a final glance back to make sure that Tom is still fast asleep behind his Sleep Therapy sleep mask from Sharper Image, which he boasted about for a full five minutes after lights out before finally dozing off. It's chillier out in the hall and Ann, still groggy from non-sleep, didn't have the presence of mind to grab a pair of socks or sandals. In an effort to remain weightless and silent, she balances down the hall on the balls of her feet, relaxing only when she's reached the common area. Dark as it is, she can still make out Leslie fast asleep on Jerry's sweater vest and wonders whether it's her duty as best friend to wake the blonde up. Maybe later; right now she just looks so peaceful.
In the stillness, she can make out few distinct sounds, but one that travels softly from somewhere in the house is the unmistakable hum of an appliance hard at work. It's not the dishwasher - she's standing just outside the kitchen now - and Ann can't remember whether Donna mentioned a washing machine. She did, however, mention a Meagles-only hot tub, and although she was disappointed when denied usage earlier in the day, now it represents the possibility of someone else in this house being awake. Hanging out with Donna always makes her feel more awkward than she should, but it's someone to talk to, and she's not in a position to be excessively picky. So, she ventures out onto the porch, furiously rubbing her arms against the sudden chill, and circles the house until she finally comes upon the hot tub deck. None of the outdoor fixtures are turned on, but the underwater lights are enough that Ann can make out exactly who is in the tub, and that it is definitely not a Meagle.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping off, like, a bottle and a half of champagne?" questions Ann. In response, April performs one of her trademark gestures, simultaneously rolling her eyes and shrugging. Ann wonders why she asked in the first place, what sort of response she was expecting. "Okay, whatever, I'm going back inside," she says, assuming that April wants to be left alone. "But you should get out of there before Donna sees you and throws a fit."
Another Ludgate™ eye-roll. "Ooh, I'm so scared," she says in an almost sing-song voice, shaking her hands wildly in the air for emphasis. Then she sits up and attempts to look stern, or perhaps just constipated. "I'm Ann, head nurse of St. Boringsville's Hospital for Boring People and I always follow the rules! Say, doctor, how long 'til I can finally get that personality transplant I desperately need?"
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