Early (very early) morning panic

I was dreaming, it was a good dream but I can’t remember what about. I know I was enjoying my peaceful sleep when the loud voice pulled me out of this heavenly state.
“F**k! Murielle! Did ou pull out the hardener and and antiskid out of the Defender box? Fu**! F***!”
It’s pitch black outside, my brain is trying to process this brutal wake up.
This does happen every once in a while, when Mark is stressed, he will sleep talk… scream. His rambling is usually punctuated with cursing and makes little sens. I usually get amused by it. 

“I threw it all out with the recycling, it was in the box and I threw it all out! F*c*!
My brain processes a little more. There is grammatical sens in Marks verbalization, he’s actually awake. Give me a second, my brain is on start up mode… Let me process this. 

Mark jumps out of bed, he’s out to the shop. M.e.Fhast has joined the vocal storm with her joyful howls, early mornings are the best! I have a look at the time: 4:58am…
My brain tries to piece up all the information received over the past 2 minutes… I’m still hardly awake.
So yesterday was recycling day, there was a lot of it. We also have many cardboard boxes full of miscellaneous goods ordered for the work on the boat. The box with the top coat hardener and the non skid was particularly light and it was covered up with shredded cardboard for safe shipping.
Sh**!!! Mark threw whole box out to the trash?!!!? We need that tomorrow! It is not sold in Canada… It is not cheap… S**t!
My brain switches straight to crisis solving mode. What time does the dump open at? My thoughts are still not very sharp. I picture myself digging through trash in a hopeless attempt to make the problem disappear.
Mark rushes back in the bedroom.
“I found it!! You had put it away, on the garage shelf. You’re awesome!”
If you say so….
My brain is reving up. Right… I remember now….
“Sorry for that” He goes back to sleep. M.e. Fhast expresses her disappointment…
5:05 am…. I’m awake now…. But all is good, painting can go on.

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