I fell asleep on the sofa… supine with my MacBook precariously balanced on my burgeoning midsection and my coffee fast approaching room temperature. I wish I could claim that I was doing something profound with the one hour of free time allotted me per day… that magical interval that spans wrangling your progeny into the bath (and then into bed) and your own personal REM sleep experience. But I wasn’t.
I woke up discombobulated and closing my laptop rampaged off to bed with the stealth like poise of a baby rhinoceros, navigating by iPhone light (so I wouldn’t fall over an errant German Shepherd sprawled out in the passage like some sort of Dinner For One-esque booby trap). After that I tried (unsuccessfully) to unfurl the blanket that my wife had (with advanced mathematics) somehow established herself in. (you know, so I could get just a tiny corner of warmth) After thirty seconds of furtive probing I gave up and the did married couples version of when someone tries to pull the tablecloth out from underneath all the crockery.
As you might imagine… that didn’t work out so well for me.
After a slew of cuss words that would make a submariner or death-row inmate blush and the hi-jinks of having to navigate the domestic version of Ninja warrior back into the living room… I wasn’t sleepy anymore. And so here I am, back where I started, not only more awake, but also wiser…
I feel uniquely disposed now to offer (unsolicited) relationship advice. You know, having survived a situation where the outcome was not entirely clear cut.
Also you’re welcome.