Tonight's thought: I imagine other people's sleeping is a lot different than mine. Which means it's also a lot different than hubby's.
Before I came into hubby's life, his sleeping was normal. Lay down at a reasonable hour, close eyes, commence snoring, roll over a few times without waking up, wake up 8 hours later when the alarm goes off. I imagine that is what other people get to do too.
Not me. Ever.
First, I get the lovely infliction of The Insomnia. It's not lovely, but if I'm not nice to it it'll poke me until I stay awake for days & I prefer to get some sleep rather than none. The Insomnia means that I have things I can do in bed. Like write a blog. Hubby sleeps through that. I don't know how.
Then, my Evil Back demands my legs be propped on something if The Insomnia is going to allow any sleep at all. On my right side, that prop is my purple (of course) pillow. On my left side, that is the hubby man. If he's laying on his back, he's the perfect thickness to shut up Evil Back. It must be a real treat to be used as a pillow.
It doesn't stop there. The fun continues when I wake him up by yelling & he opens his eyes to find me sitting up & lecturing at Watson for not [taking his vitamins/medication/drinking enough water/getting enough exercise/quitting smoking] because his [fill in the blank with a combination of whatever health conditions I was just studying that day to make up a whole new illness that does not yet exist] depends on it. Or telling hubby that I'm dying for a Denver omelet and need to go make more food to get the 12 points back. It must be a real treat to carry on a conversation with a person who will not remember any of it when they wake up.
Or nights like last night when I panicked and said...not in a low voice like one would expect when your partner is sleeping next to you, but a regular voice..."Did you put the meat away?" It was 11:00 at night, hubby was asleep, and I woke him up to ask him this because my OCD had to know right that second and getting out of bed to go find out would have made the worlds collide and explode. Because OCD. Not to mention that it was 11:00 at night and I had brought the groceries home at 5, so if the meat was not put away by then, it might as well wait till morning because it is just going straight into the garbage.
How would a normal person who is used to sleeping with a normal person answer that question? Maybe with a "WTF??" or a "Seriously? Get your ass out of bed & go find out. Let me sleep, you crazy woman!" Not hubby. No, he simply answered with a "yes" as if this was perfectly normal and he went to sleep expecting to be woken up with a panicked food question after just 10 minutes of sleep.
True story. I must be a treat to sleep with.
And now a cute video of Watson's & Lennon's nightly pre-bed ritual.
Tell me, what is cuter than cats bathing each other to sleep?