I've made no secret about the fact that good sleep has eluded me for the last week or so. Until the last couple nights I was sick or had heartburn or had a baby keeping me awake. I would venture that I got about 4 hours of sleep every night last week. Not enough. My 'small meals' plan may finally be controlling my heartburn (ie: I don't wake up with stomach acid in my mouth) and the stress of visitors has waned and life is returning to normal for the next 6 weeks or so.
With a small exception.
I don't often share tales about the love of my life. Mostly because between myself, Cannon, and the dog I have plenty of interesting blog fodder and Dan is by far the most normal of the bunch. He does have one slightly endearing, slightly disturbing habit.
I wake up to find Dan sitting on the edge of our bed looking out the bedroom door which is cracked about 5 inches.
"Dan, what's going on?" He whispers something that I can't understand. I laboriously sit up and ask again, "What are you doing?". He's frozen on the edge of the bed and I instantly decide someone has broken into the house and he is gripped with fear so I will have to jump into action, grab the bb gun that looks like a real gun and take down this mofo. "Cor," he says, "there's a rooster right outside the door." "What?!?!" "A rooster, in the hallway, get the dog so he doesn't go nuts!"
Laughing, I touch his face, tell him to wake up, and gently break the news that there is no rooster in the hallway, bathroom or anywhere else.
Back in the day I woke up to him walking around our bedroom. When I told him to come back to bed his response was simply 'ok, but they're going to take your bike.' And back to sleep he went.
Sometimes he remembers. Sometimes he doesn't. This morning he recalled something about a rooster.
The Best part? Getting to tell him the story in the morning, which reminds me he's not as normal as I think.