Saturday, September 25, 2010

i hear the secrets that you keep...

Apparently I talk in my sleep.
I wasn't made aware of this spectacular talent of mine until after I was married and shared a sleeping space with another human.
A light sleeping human.

Thank God for sacred wedding vows until death do us part, because without them, I might have frightened my bedfellow away and back into a bachelor's domain.

There was one night, when in a fitful slumber, I snatched my husbands pillow from under his sleepy head and yelled,
"That's MY pillow!"
Contentedly happy and dreaming my cares away on two overstuffed pillows, I slept peacefully, while my poor husband rested his head on a solid, cold mattress.

Another night, after a day of heavy cleaning, I crept out of bed in the middle of the night, walked across the room and started tossing clothes left and right. My tired husband woke to the ruckus and asked what I was doing. In a pissy, 'mind your own business' voice, I replied,
sigh, humph, mutter.
"Well, actually, I'm not cleaning, I'm organizing."
toss. throw. slump.
"You know what, just don't even ask."
And then I sulked back to bed, turning my back on him because 'he just didn't get it'.

During our bathroom remodel, after pulling out flooring, sinks, toilets, tubs, drywall, plaster, wallpaper, etc, etc, I had another sleeping 'moment'. We had the help of my little brother that day to tear down the plaster and lathe. He did a mighty good job, that boy. I must have thought so, because his great work made me dream and walk a fury that night...

At an ungodly hour during slumber-time, I sat up in bed, tore the covers off and stared at the wall. My husband, growing accustomed to this charade, sighed and asked what I was up to.

I turned to the wall, swept my hand across it's embossed wallpaper and said,
"I know. We'll have the kids do it."

Wiping sleep from his eyes, my husband replied,

"We'll have the kids do it. They know how to do it right. You see? The last owners didn't know how to do it right and that's why we had to do it. We have to do it right this time."

"Honey, you're asleep. Go to bed."

"NO. I promise you, I am not asleep right now. Here, let me show you how to do it right. I'll just go grab the crowbar..."

"Um. No. You need to go to sleep, you're asleep right now, just lay back down..."


"Go to sleep."

With a huge and overly dramatic sigh, I slumped back into bed and said with all the sass I could sleepily muster,

"Fine. But you're going to feel very silly tomorrow morning when you realize I am not asleep right now."

As you probably guessed, the next morning when I went downstairs to greet my husband and his steaming cup of coffee, he had a smirk like the Cheshire Cat himself.

With a light kiss I asked,
"How did you sleep, babe?"

Jaw dropping and walking away he replied,
"Well, I slept like crap, but I sure don't feel silly this morning."

And, in a rush, it all came back to me.

In conclusion, I think that my subconscious dream state is trying to tell me something.

I need two interchangeable pillows to keep my sleeping self satisfied.

I need to spend more awake time cleaning and organizing.

And the next time we plan a room remodel, I'll just leave it entirely up to the creepy ghost children, because, after all, they know what's best.

Oh, and also, in order to keep things spicy and surprising in the bedroom, I need to continue talking in my sleep because my husband says it's freaky.

Freaky in the bedroom is good, right?

Sunday, September 19, 2010

dear veronika, please think before you speak...

During our bathroom remodel, I was in charge of picking up the new toilet from Lowes.
We had already picked it out, so all I had to do was convince my mom to drive me out there, show someone what I wanted, pay, and then load it into her car.

I walked into the store, cool, collected, and savvy.

Every few aisles, a friendly store clerk would politely ask if I was in need of assistance.
"Why, no thank you, I know exactly what I need!" 
I would reply with confidence.

Once I crossed the store and reached the plumbing section, I quickly realized I was in need of assistance as there was no way I could carry the box of disassembled toilet all the way to the register and out to the car.

No matter. From around the corner, another friendly clerk sprang out in front of me to ask if I needed help.

"Why, yes thank you. I'll be needing someone to load this into the car!"

Quick as a whip, we were at the register and ready to pay.

As I was swiping my credit card, the nice boy manning the register asked,
"Now, where are we putting this?"

Feeling very proud of myself at this point, I matter-of-factly replied,
"Oh! We're going to be putting this in the bathroom!"

Wait...did I hear crickets?
Why is he looking at me like that?
Is he confused?
What did I say?


" mean which car are we putting this in?"

He nods. 
Then smirks.

"Right. Okay. It's the white Vibe parked out front. But, just for the record, we were thinking of putting this sucker in the living room. You know, make things easier...less distance to travel when we gotta go? Erhm, please just forget I said that, okay?!?"

Red as a beet and dragging my pride behind me, I darted out of the store without meeting the eyes of anyone in my path.

Real savvy.