Sleep Disorders

When I first started blogging in the summer of 2005, my original intent was to tell stories about my life. It was a good idea, but there were only so many stories to tell. Like I mentioned in my previous post, I am going to be re-posting some of my favorites from that time. For your reading pleasure is my original and unedited post from 29 July, 2005.

OK...let me start by telling you, my faithful reader, that sleeping in the same bed with That Guy I Married has often been more of an adventure in bizarre sleeping mishaps than I care to even think about.

One night, about 8 months into my 4th pregnancy, I was sleeping the broken, uncomfy slumber of the Heavily Pregnant. I was jolted awake my my darling husband. He sat straight up in the bed as though he had been bitten by a snake, or something. The next thing I know, I hear the tell tale sound of someone getting ready to hock a loogey. You know the sound...

Thinking to myself, GREAT! He is gonna hork all over the bed and I was trying to recall if he had consumed any alcohol or eaten anything that might have made him ill. It all happened so fast, that I am surely leaving out some details...but the next thing that happened is almost unspeakable. He SPIT on me. That's right, my dear reader...That Guy I Married *SPIT* right on me! In my sleep induced stupor, which quickly turned to rage when I realized what had happened to me, I uttered something to the effect of GAWD! You just SPIT on me! Then I hit him. I hit him HARD. He said something like WHA the FUH?!? I told him what he had just DONE to me and then he had the audacity to tell me that NO, he could NOT have spit on me because he was SLEEPING. I proceeded to wipe him down with his own saliva. I was SEETHING by this point...then he started to laugh. It was a psychotic and scary laugh. A *DARK* laugh. I asked him what he thought was so GOD DAMNED funny...and then he told me about this dream he was having. Apparently he dreamt that he was atop the Sears Tower with our two daughters. He was giving them the Fatherly Lesson of Spitting From a Rooftop. I guess our bed was the Sears Tower...and I was the poor schmuck who had the misfortune of walking by at the Wrong Moment.

I am sure that you, my dear reader, will hear many more tales of our Nighttime Mishaps...because there are many, MANY more. And know that while I am dreaming my little dreams at night...I always have one eye open...