Dearly Beloved informs me that he got only two hours sleep last night. The man wakes at the sound of a fly scratching. Personally, I think his doctor might suggest medication. . . but when I mention it, you’d think I was suggesting that he see a witch doctor.
I know he doesn’t sleep as soundly as I do. Dr. Strangelove could probably do an appendectomy on me once I fall asleep…but if I do wake up, I have a difficult time going back to sleep. That means I’m up very early sometimes.
DB is just the opposite. (No surprise there, huh!?) Some mornings he will get out of bed just to come into the sunroom and tell me, “I’m going back to bed for ten minutes or so.”
I have no idea why.
Our sleep habits are so different it’s like one of us is of another species. We already know we’re from different planets. He likes to go to bed early, prop up on pillows, the remote control in his hand, and watch something sporty for a few minutes. When he gets sleepy he will toss all the pillows but one, put the remote on my pillow, and roll over to “listen to the radio” which means, “I gave you the remote, but don’t change the channel.” I’m agreeable to that because when he reaches that point, it’s purely a matter of seconds. . . .
I, on the other hand, pack for bed every night. I take a book, a glass of water, my Burt’s Bees Pomegranate Lip Balm, and sometimes a crossword puzzle. (I still need the book, though, to write on.) Pencils, medicines, lotions, potions, and pills are already bedside. Yes, he has read to me–numerous times, I might add– of what one should and should not do in the bed, a list which does not tally with mine. I’m getting better though–twice last week I went to sleep without reading. I still had the book beside me, just in case. . . .
When I get up in the morning, I have to bring out last night’s haul and since my hands are full with all that stuff, I can’t bring out clothes, so that means that although I’m out of bed first, he’s dressed before I am. Fine with me; I’m a schlepper by nature.
This morning when he tells me he had only two hours sleep, I am skeptical.
“How can that be? You slept two hours after I got up.”
I should have seen it coming:
“Those are the two hours I’m talking about. You snored.”
Well pardon me for breathing, which is sort of what we’re talking about here. My head is stuffy, my ears are popping, my throat is tickling, so yes, there is a possibility I snored… BUT that was after an antihistamine and nasal spray. In other words, I gave it my best shot.
“Why didn’t you go sleep in the guest room?” The mattress on that bed is his favorite anyway.
“You felt too good.”
This man is a keeper.
Quiet, please. . . my husband is napping.
I can’t name my favorite book or movie, but meet one of my favorite trees. It’s in the parking lot of a barbecue restaurant. There’s some big-time pollen in this town!