The Living Rockumentary

Last night I bolted upright in bed at around 2:00 am because of the most ungodly sound outside. YIPSNARLSNORTSCREECH YIPSNARLSNORTSCREECH.
The sound of hell. There was a coyote or two in my very backyard, or the next one over. Probably dismembering one of the many neighborhood cats or a bunny or something.
Andrea didn't stir at all, so Ilistened more to make sure I wasn't dreaming. No, I wasn't. The sound eventually stopped and I fell back asleep after my heart stopped pounding.

Half an hour later, same thing. This time I walked to the window to see if I could see. I saw lights going on in surrounding houses. In the dark, I accidentally tripped on a cord and knocked out the window fan, which, on its way to the floor hit the metal trash basket. This finally woke up Andrea. By then, the sound was getting further away.
This time I had a harder time falling back asleep.
I'm very glad that Marianne is an indoor cat. I hope the coyotes don't make this a habit. I need sleep.

Andrea wakes up at 6am to get ready for work. I stay sleeping for another 45 minutes. But this morning, I again was awoken by a strange, loud deep, quick BUZZ!
All the lights had gone out on Trumbull Road.
If it wasn't for Andrea already being up, we would've both been hours late for work. But she woke me up with the news about Iraq's sovereignty. I took the coyote and the power loss as bad omens.

How is it that I can sleep deeper in the back of a bumpy speeding van full of people taking and music playing than in my own bed?