Fact 1: I am a light sleeper with intermittent insomnia. It is something I am working on, but it is a hard row to hoe.
Fact 2: I have been with The Boy for 14 years. He pretty much knows all the things about me there are to know. Including Fact 1.
I got up early this morning, before I was really properly awake, did a big pile of things, and then made myself crawl back into bed about 4 hours later because my eyeballs hurt.
Shortly after I fell asleep, the boy walked into the bedroom.
Him (full volume): “Are you awake?”
Him: “Because I wanted to ask if I got the right thing yesterday? I think maybe you wanted baking soda and I got baking powder?”
Me: “You… woke… me… up… to ask me that?”
Him: “I was just wondering.”
Me: “You are beautiful and have many charming qualities, but I kind of want you dead right now. Baking powder.”
Later the same day…
I am in my office, listening to “Salute Your Solution” rather loudly, and I may have been excitedly exclaiming to myself, also rather loudly, as I began allocating and filling my new storage boxes. (“Jolly disco!”)
When The Boy came into my office – which, of course, made me jump (Fact 3) – and started laughing at me. First for being startled, and then “Oh no, don’t let me interrupt. Keep enjoying your little storage party. What were you saying to your files?”
Me: “You are ruining my day.”
Him: “Don’t blog this.”
UPDATED. The Him says I misquoted him, and has the following amendments:
Him: “When I came into your office, I shouted “FILE PARTY!” and joined in your raucous celebration of filing. Also, I didn’t say ‘don’t blog this’, I said I’m going to blog this.”