Last night, Chris fell asleep on the couch while we were watching TV. When the show ended, I went to wake him so we could go to bed.
I shook his shoulder gently and whispered that he needed to get up and go to bed.
“Mumble mumble just wait mumble mumble.”
“C’mon honey, time for bed.”
“Just wait two weeks.”
“OK, whatever. C’mon let’s go to bed.”
“But what if we wait a couple weeks and then there’s not two and we need another one, you understand what I mean?”
“You’re not making any sense.”
He tried to explain again, something about two weeks and things and then there not being things. None of which seemed to have any connection with him getting up off the couch at that moment.
“You’re still not making any sense.”
To which he finally got up and made his way towards the bedroom. Partially annoyed that he had to wake up and partially annoyed that I couldn’t understand his nonsense, he said companionably, “You’re a pain in my butt, you know that?”
“Well,” I replied with aplomb, “that sentence was clear enough.”
