I have quirky sleep habits. My poor husband Pete has to put up with them, too. I have been known to take my socks off while I am sleeping (I don't remember doing this) and place them under Pete's pillow. Last night was the icing on the cake, though. It was a rough night. First of all, Nicholas had a bad dream and so he climbed into bed beside me, forcing me into the middle of the king-size bed. Then, the electricity went off. Pete woke up and got flashlights for us to use. After he reported the outage, he attempted to go back to sleep, but it was very warm. When he finally dozed off, he was suddenly (and painfully) awakened to the sharp kicks from his wife. "Ouch, that hurts," he said.
Meanwhile, I did not realize I was kicking my husband, for I was far away in dreamland, fighting off the evil warrior who was after me. I was running as fast as I could, away from my attacker, but he caught up with me and grabbed me. That is when I started kicking with all my might- literally. Little did I know I was kicking my innocent husband while he slept.
I had to laugh about it this morning, thinking about an old "Mad About You" episode. Pete just looked at me and said, "That's NOT funny- it hurt."
I'm sorry, honey.
I guess I'd better sleep closer to the edge tonight.