Justin simply isn't a chatty fellow - that is, until his head hits the pillow. Justin just doesn't talk in his sleep, he delivers full-fledged monologues. He'll also answer questions and has entire conversations with me that he doesn't remember
I've watched him conduct meetings, host a radio show, and lately, he's been dodging arrows that he believes are being shot through our window.
Its amusing and exhausting. Between Justin's performances, his snoring, and the kids, I don't think I've gotten a full night's sleep in years.
Its amusing and exhausting. Between Justin's performances, his snoring, and the kids, I don't think I've gotten a full night's sleep in years.
Since I don't sleep much in our bedroom, I've decided that it should at least be pretty - so when I'm staring at the walls listening to the beast roar beside me, I've got a nice room to look at.
I purchased an old armoire and spent a few days sanding and repainting it before I enlisted Justin and his father to haul it upstairs.
Though I had measured the space in the room, I didn't account for getting it into the bedroom. The armoire couldn't make the turn in the hallway - it was just too big.
After a lot of time, a lot of discussion and many failed attempts, it was called a loss - it just wasn't going to fit.
I was upset, but there was nothing to do done.
That is until my brilliant father-in-law went home and fetched my kid's toy wooden blocks. He made a mock-up of the hallway/bedroom and worked out a plan to work my armoire into my bedroom.
The next day, my armoire was nestled comfortably in the bedroom and I was filled with joy.
Apparently, my husband was filled with rage.
That night, I awoke to him shouting into his pillow.
"Stupid armoire," he snarled. "It's not going with us when we move...Stupid heavy piece of junk."
I usually ignore sleep-talking but this got my full attention.
"Justin," I said. "Why are you talking about the armoire?"
He turned his back to me, nuzzled down into pillow and said calmly, "Because...Tomorrow -I'm going to burn it."
I purchased an old armoire and spent a few days sanding and repainting it before I enlisted Justin and his father to haul it upstairs.
Though I had measured the space in the room, I didn't account for getting it into the bedroom. The armoire couldn't make the turn in the hallway - it was just too big.
After a lot of time, a lot of discussion and many failed attempts, it was called a loss - it just wasn't going to fit.
I was upset, but there was nothing to do done.
That is until my brilliant father-in-law went home and fetched my kid's toy wooden blocks. He made a mock-up of the hallway/bedroom and worked out a plan to work my armoire into my bedroom.
The next day, my armoire was nestled comfortably in the bedroom and I was filled with joy.
Apparently, my husband was filled with rage.
That night, I awoke to him shouting into his pillow.
"Stupid armoire," he snarled. "It's not going with us when we move...Stupid heavy piece of junk."
I usually ignore sleep-talking but this got my full attention.
"Justin," I said. "Why are you talking about the armoire?"
He turned his back to me, nuzzled down into pillow and said calmly, "Because...Tomorrow -I'm going to burn it."
No comments:
Post a Comment