#167 In which our hero longs for a nap.
Sleepy. Sleeeeepy. I woke up last night after a particularly disturbing dream (in which I stabbed a good friend through the spleen with a sword that was in odd dream-fashion also a giant pair of scissors -- sorry Warren) only to find that The Scientist was no-where to be found. I wandered blurry-eyed downstairs, expecting to find her playing the MUD that has once again swallowed her soul… but no. She was just surfing around, unable to sleep. This happens quite a lot to The Scientist: she wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep. This is completely alien to me, because I rarely have trouble sleeping. But I tossed and turned when I got back into bed, still anxious over how I betrayed and literally back-stabbed my friend.
So I’m paying the price this morning.
Everyone remembers I have a sofa in my office, right? Well, that sofa has never looked more comfortable. I could easily plop down and take a nap. Which reminds me of something that happened recently.
The Friday we went to Columbus, The Scientist drove down and met me in Akron. It seemed to make a lot more sense than me driving back up to Cleveland then back down again. Plus, we could leave a car in my parking lot for the weekend without paying. So The Scientist got off work really early, like 2pm, and drove down. I wasn’t quite ready to go, so she hung out in my office while I ran around and tired up loose strings.
After I was out of my office of 10 minutes, The Scientist grew bored (after sabotaging my computer with a nasty phrase that made me laugh out loud when I got back) then got sleepy. She stretched out on the sofa and fell asleep.
This did two things. First, it added to my office mystique (“Hey, Couch-Guy has some hot girl sleeping in his office!”) and secondly, it reinforced the notion that The Scientist is the perfect wife for me. I mean, how many people have the balls to fall asleep in a strange office, surrounded by people they don’t know? That’s my wife saying, “Y’know what? I’m sleepy and I don’t give a shit if people see me napping.”
I just think that’s cool.
But now I envy her that 15 minute nap. It’s just not kosher for me to fall asleep in my office… I am on the clock after all. While I’d love to do it, I think it would be, um, frowned upon.
So all I can do is look at my sofa longingly and wish for sweet dreams. That don’t involve stabbing friends.