Just what I asked for

Matthew is laying beside me, snoring. Not Deathstar power plant snoring, just “I’m asleep” snoring. It’s what I’ve wanted, and now I can’t help but laugh at myself.

Matthew’s been reading a book by Elmore Leonard, and he has been bringing it to bed with him so he can enjoy a good nighttime read. After many months (years?) of always going to bed before Matthew, it feels so strange to have him there. I toss and I turn and I whimper. But he just keeps reading at me. That night light is like a spotlight on my sleep trauma, and him—him!—just reading there happily like nothing is wrong. I can’t sleep!

I can’t sleep with him in the room, sitting up in bed, with his reading lamp on. I’ve tried, lord knows I’ve tried, but I just can’t do it. I am so tired of this Elmore Leonard kick, and I hope our public library runs out of his books soon. In order to torment him into going to bed early, I poke him over and over in his arm like a seven-year-old. He ignores me. I wave my hands in front of the page. He reads on. I thrash around and whine a lot. Silence. I kick at him (gently (sort of)), and I tell him, “I need to sleep! Go read on the couch!”

Guess what he reminded me last night?

“Back when we were first married, you begged that I would turn the TV off and we could go lay in bed together and read side-by-side. Now we’re doing it.”

“I said that?” perfectly incredulous.

“Yes,” he smiled.

I laughed hysterically. “Well you’ve corrupted me! I care more about TV now, and I don’t want you in the bed!”

He laughed at me.

“Turn off the damn light!”

“Let me finish this chapter, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

Tonight, I told him, “I’m tired. If you want to read, stay on the couch.” After I got ready for bed, I came in to find him snuggled with his pillow, fast asleep, snoring. Me? I’m blogging. Maybe it wasn’t his wild nightlife keeping me up after all.