or apparently I'm being chased by dingos. for realz.
Okay, so five nights a week I head up to bed hours before Geo, because, you know I had the misguided notion long ago that I just had to work in television for a living, which as you also know is a 24/7 bidnez and I drew the not-so-short straw to toil at the hours-before-the-butt-crack-of-dawn shift of 4:15am. Ergo I even have to go to sleep before the tiny tots in the neighborhood are forced to slumber, which is kinda humiliating because those tykes taunt me, mockingly shake their pacifiers and diapered bottoms at me and call me a pussy.
Them toddlers are mean SOBs, y'all.
Anywho, I have been known to snore a bit, chuckle and occasionally utter a non-sequitor or two when Geo finally crawls beneath the sheets. Once I looked him square in the eye and said matter of factly, "but you have green beans coming out of your nose." HaHa!
Forthwith is last night's comatose conversation:
Me: (mumble mumble chuckle)....the dogs
Geo: Which dogs?
Me: The ones with the legal wallpaper in their hands...
Soooo...yeah. Apparently my subconscious is being chased by dingos with a penchant for redecorating poorly.
At least I'm not as off color as this British Sleep Talking Man. Next to this guy, I'm a nun.