November 09, 2001 - 7:30 p.m.
My husband talks in his sleep.
Not always - usually only when he's very tired or stressed - unless I'm sleeping through it most of the time. But he always talks about whatever has been preoccupying him and always - always - defies all reason and reality. Conversations with him are pretty memorable.
Last night I couldn't get to sleep. Despite a long day of toddler chasing and a mug of warm milik, I just lay there staring at the ceiling. Sometime around 1 am, Mike starts mumbling into his pillow - something about a client and proper resources. Ah, I think, he's brought his work to bed with him. So I nudge him and tell him to go to sleep.
I don't know why I try that. It never works. He raises his head and looks at me, all confused about why his wife and bed are suddenly in the middle of an IT management meeting, and says "Huh?"
"Go. To. Sleep."
He gives me that annoyed look he gets when he's being diverted away from what he wants and protests, "But they haven't paid for a full version of me asleep yet!"
