I went to bed sleepy last night, but lay there with my eyes closed instead of actually falling asleep. Couldn’t turn my brain off. I wish I could tell you I was bothered with productive thoughts but….
I was still doing that, intermittently dozing, I guess, at around 3am, when my husband started talking. I sat up and leaned over so I could hear him. He was talking about “Pointy scissors poking him.” When I asked him if it was happening NOW and where he was hurting, he was quiet for a minute and then said “no,” and mumbled. I realized he was talking in his sleep.
I tried to sleep again, but couldn’t, so I ended up downstairs reading until around 4:30. I was just dozing off around 5am when he started talking to me again. I determined he didn’t have anything of note to say this time, either, and I have to tell you I said pretty harshly for him to be quiet.
The next thing I knew my alarm was going off. He was downstairs asleep in his chair with a towel on his head. I didn’t feel bad about making a lot of noise in the kitchen. He remembered talking to me, but didn’t remember what he said. He told me he had finally stopped reading about 2am and came up to bed. I don’t know when he got up and came downstairs this morning.
This is one of the many ‘perks’ we have discovered as we age. I have to leave for a haircut this morning in a few minutes, but Michael will be kind if I fall asleep while he’s trying to work a miracle on me. I look like a dandelion gone to seed right now.
It’s a very good thing I don’t have a job now that requires an excess of alertness…
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