So, it was actually Mum's birthday today so we went over to say happy burfday and give her her gift. I got her the best of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. She's a bit of a rocker on the sly is old mother Cooper. She was definitely a Stones fan rather than a Beatles fan. (Which incidentally I'm not. I'm Beatles all the way). We had a few glasses of vino and smoked a few of the finest woodbines, then went north to bed.
I'm keeping it short and sweet today, but very quickly I want to tell you about what happened overnight last night. I have a bit of a habit of talking in my sleep but not in a grumbly moany type way. It's very clear what I'm talking about, even if it's non-sensical, and the other weird thing is I always know what I've been talking about the next morning. I get kind of embarrassed because what I've said doesn't make any sense, and so I try and switch it into something else slightly more relevant! Last night, the other half got up in the middle of the night to go to the loo. I have to sleep with something between my legs (easy tiger) and so I always have a pillow down there. I decided to fluff my pillow and pulled it from between my knees, but I totally misjudged the swing and smashed a glass of juice I had on the bedside table to smithereens. It shit me right up! SMAAAAAAAASH! It seemed to say.
A few hours lat
er (after I'd cleaned it all up) I started to yap on. I was saying about a time I got my elbow caught in the car door and it smashed and glass went everywhere. I was instantly questioned as to what the fuck I was talking about, so I repeated myself. 'I'm just thinking about the time I got my elbow caught in the car door'! WTF!?I started to change my story to it being about the glass smashing, but I knew I was talking shit. The next day I remembered it all very clearly. But I'm asleep when I'm doing it! It's very odd. So if ever you want a really good, deep conversation with a sleeping man, just pop over around 2am.
Until then,
peace to you.
M xxxx
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