Sleeping Together

Last night as I was falling asleep, Chris and I had the funniest conversation.  I can’t even explain it to you.  You just have to hear it.



“Chris,” I whispered as he was falling asleep.  “Maybe if we made Molly wear a bandana around her neck, she wouldn’t mess with her sore so much.”

(NOTE:  We had not, at any time in the past 24 hours at least, been talking about Molly’s sore.)

“That’s a good idea,” he replied sleepily.  “But why are you thinking about that right now?”

“Well, I was thinking about taking the kids to the date night co-op this weekend.  And then about how we have to pick Nick up from the airport.  And then about how so-and-so is coming over for dinner.  And then about how the dogs need baths before we have company in town.  And then about how I should take them to the groomer.  And then about how I think they are overdue for their shots.  And then about how our vet is moving to a new office.  And then about if maybe the vet would be interested in contributing to the PTA sponsorships this year.  And then about how that wound on Molly’s back is really gross.  And then about how gross it is going to be when we have company over.  And then about how maybe a bandana would help.”


“Wow,” Chris said.  “That’s impressive.”

“What do you think about when you are going to sleep?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Nothing?  You can’t think about nothing.  You have to think about something.”

“No.  I really think about nothing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I insisted.  “You’ve got to think about something.  Like, just now, what were you thinking about?”


“An egg.”


“An egg?”

“Yeah, an egg.”

“Like, you want to eat eggs?”


“No, like just a plain egg,” he said.  “It’s a relaxation technique.  You focus on something simple.”

“How have you not shared with me that you think about eggs before you fall asleep?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t really think about it.  It just works.  Try it.”

“Okay,” I said.  And I snuggled into my covers and closed my eyes for about 20 seconds.

“Chris,” I said.

“Yes,” he responded.

“What color is your egg?”

“What are you talking about?  It’s white. A white egg.”

“Oh,” I said.  And then a few seconds later.  “Mine has a bluish tint to it.”

“NO!” Chris said louder.  “You’re doing it wrong.  It’s just a plain white egg!”

“Well, mine is blue,” I insisted.  “And there’s a chicken inside.”

“NO!” Chris said even louder.  “THERE IS NO CHICKEN.  It’s just an egg.  A white egg.”

“Mine has a chicken poking it’s little beak out, breaking out of his shell.”

“NO!”  This time Chris sat up in bed.  “You just picture an egg.  Floating in space.  It’s just plain.  YOU’RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT!”

“Your egg is floating in space?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Is it against a white background or a black one?”

“Mine is black,” he said, settling back down into his covers again and closing his eyes.  “It’s just a white egg in black space.”


“I’m going to watch my cleaning videos.”

“Okay, night.”



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