I got a text from a friend last night as I climbed into bed that told me immediately that I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. I was getting dressed again and I was sneaking down the stairs in the dark, and I was going somewhere else I needed to be.
Besides, I have my own VIP entrance at the hospital. True story.
Which is fine. I'm good that way.
I got back home eventually, put my pajamas back on, gave my husband the quick summary of what was going on and shut my eyes.
That's when the fun started, and I swear I didn't even get any of the good drugs.
I woke myself up talking a few times. No idea what I was talking about, pretty sure I wasn't talking to anyone. Tom sort-of acknowledged me once, but he was more asleep than I was and went back to snoring right away.
Then, this morning, my husband woke me up laughing.
Asked me where exactly I had been last night and what I saw. Wanted to know who I was talking about and if I remembered anything.
I had literally no idea what he was talking about.
Apparently, though, it was me doing the talking. I went on and on and on about the little people that were coming. He asked me questions, I gave details. I insisted that he should know what I was talking about, then assured him that if he didn't, he would soon.
|Somehow I don't think these are the little people I was talking about.|
Whatever the hell that means.