Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Not sure how I should feel about this.

When I start to get exhausted (like right now when I am juggling 2 internships, a job, classes, and job-hunting), I start to get foolish with my sleep.  As in, I tend not to get enough of it, and by the time I get into bed, I'm really dragging.  E is much more of a night person than I am, so he's normally getting into bed at a time I reserve for frantic ends-of-semesters.  One of his favorite things to do on such nights is to talk to me while I drift in and out of sleep.  He gets a window into my weird subconscious, and the next day, I get stories about whatever ridiculous things I said the night before.

The other night, for instance, as I struggled to stay awake, I told E to just "ask the cookie vendor" rather than talk to me.  In my head, we were in the holiday market at Grand Central Terminal, and there was a guy selling lovely frosted cookies.  In reality, we were in bed in our freezing cold bedroom in Queens. Six of one, half dozen of the other.

A few minutes later, I started singing a variation on this classic Fats Domino tune:

...except I basically just sang "We're talkin', yes indeed..." over and over.

I can't even get back at him, because once he falls asleep the only noises you'll get out of E are teeth-grinding and various emissions.  Oh well.