I feel like I haven’t talked too much about darling Otto, recently, and this is not because my adoration for him has waned in any way. In fact, I would have to say that during my recent bout of The Crayzee he continued to be nothing less than a pillar of strength and support.
It’s funny; I was talking with a freshly-divorced friend the other day, and she asked me how I ever managed to get to a place where I could even consider trusting a relationship again, much less remarrying. And I had to confess that Otto and I have known each other for over half our lives; I’m not sure I ever could’ve done it, otherwise. I truly believe that history is the glue in our relationship. That’s not to say that our history is nothing but rainbows and sunshine, but that having known each other for so long—having seen each other make mistakes and be jerks and still somehow recover from those things—THAT is what allows us to look at each other every day and know that whatever it is, we’re going to be okay.
We’ve agreed to love each other for richer or for poorer, in sickness or in health, through endless fence debacles (NO THE FENCE IS STILL NOT FINISHED, THANKS FOR ASKING) and whatever else life throws at us. (World without end, amen.)
All of this is Very Very Good, especially when it comes to my wonderful husband’s habit of sleep-walking-talking and insisting-there’s-a-crisis-ing. Ahem.
So, remember how I wasn’t really sleeping? And then I went back on medication and started sleeping again, which was helpful because not sleeping is always my fast track to Crazytown?
Well, I sort of stopped sleeping, again. I mean, not entirely. I have a cold. I’m not deathly ill or anything, but my head is just congested enough that it’s making it hard for me to sleep. So for two or three nights in a row I slept incredibly poorly (couldn’t fall asleep, couldn’t stay asleep, tossed and turned and generally would’ve made an excellent commercial for any “DON’T BE MISERABLE ALL NIGHT LONG LIKE THIS CRAZY WOMAN!” sleep aid).
So last night I took my Lexapro AND I took some Nyquil AND I took melatonin. I was covering all my bases, see. Because I was EXHAUSTED. And I seriously felt like one more night without sleep and I was going to rip someone’s face off. So we went to bed, and I lay there thinking CALM SLEEPY THOUGHTS, and finally, I fell asleep.
I was jolted awake at around 2:00 a.m.
“STOP. SLIDING. FRETT.” My soulmate, my true love, my sweetheart. Issuing incoherent commands. Waking me up in the middle of the night when I’ve FINALLY managed to sleep.
“What?” I said, because maybe I heard him wrong.
“STOP SLIDING FRETT!” he repeated, with even more insistence.
I sighed. “Honey, you’re not making any sense. You’re sleeping. Go back to sleep, with less talking, please.”
“I’m awake,” he said, because he always insists he’s awake when he does this. “Just wait, don’t move,” and then he started sliding his hands around on the mattress, under our pillows.
I sighed again. “Sweetie, you’re sleeping.” His hands continued searching. “Let me guess,” I continued, “snakes?”
He paused. “You’re going to laugh at me,” he said, in a small voice.
“I promise not to laugh,” I said, and I meant it. (Because the unspoken addendum to that was, “because I will simply blog about it and let my readers laugh at you, instead.”) “What is it you’re looking for?”
“Marshmallows,” he said.
“Marshmallows,” I repeated.
“Yes,” he said. Then a pause. Then: “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”
“Good night, Otto,” I said, turning over.
Once I’m over my cold, I plan to pull my husband close, stare deep into his eyes, and whisper “marshmallows” as often as possible. Because I love him THAT MUCH.