Soundest sleeping wife in the world?

Last night, I discovered that my wife, Wendy, is either the soundest sleeping person I know, or as deaf as a post!

I was home later than I expected last night as I had to help someone reconfigure their broadband router. I left that job and caught the tube home at around 10:15 pm, which, let's face it, isn't that late. I rang Wendy from the train but no there was no answer. Never mind, she's bound to wake up when I get home, I thought.

I arrived back at the bliock of flats where I live, in Putney south west London, at around 10:45. Now, the block where I live has a groovy entry phone system, where you punch in your flat number and it rings the handset in the flat.

I rang it.

Nothing.

I rang it again.

Still nothing.

I rang our phone number from the mobile, while still ringing the door.

Nada.

I rang her mobile, our house phone and the entryphone continuously for 20 minutes. Neither Wendy, nor either of our 2 kids, Sam, who's 4 and 6-month-old Joe stirrred. Eventually I spotted one of my neighbours' lights on, so very apologetically I buzzed them and they let me in the door.

Up I went in the lift, confident that I'd be able to wake my sleeping beauty. No chance. For the next HOUR I knocked, rang, phoned, kicked the door, and yelled through the letterbox, but to no avail. Man that's one heavy sleeper - I was starting to wonder if she'd died in her bed! I slowly went through the gamut of emotions - wry humour, disappointment, anger, fury (man I really kicked that door), weariness, resignation. I even tried playing my phone's loudest rngtone through the letterbox!

Around midnight I gave up and settled down to sleep. On the floor. Outside my own front door.
Not only was it quite uncomfortable, but every 12 seconds there was an irritating BEEP as our answerphone helpfully reminded me that I'd left a number of "LET ME IN!" messages upon its sorry digital ass.

2:20 am. I'm awake and bursting for a pee. I realise with some incredulity that, at some point while I was asleep, Wendy had got up! She'd turned the bloody hall light off! I started ringing/hammering/knocking again but no response. The urge to relieve myself was growing seriously pressing, so I went back down the stairs, and stuffing the lock with tissues from my pocket to stop it closing, hobbled outside, round the corner and into the garden, where I shamefully peed at the corner of one of the flower beds. Wow, men can hold a lot of liquid, can't we?

I crept back upstairs and had one last ditch attempt to rouse someone, very concious that every knock, every kick seemed to reverbarate around the top floor like a giant echo chamber. So that's what it would have sounded if I'd stuffed my head inside Ringo's bass drum when the Fabs recorded Rain.

I was just about to give up when, at bleeding last, Wendy stumbed towards the door and opened it. I fell into bed and slept. All the time dreaming of that BEEP every 12 seconds.

No wonder I'm so bloody shattered today!

So, does Wendy win the Mutt and Jeff award for 2006? Whatever your answer, tell me later - I have to sleeee.....zzzzzzzz.....zzzzzzzz.......

M.