Tuesday,
January 13, 2004
I want to write
I really do. But I also really, really, really want to go to sleep right now (one of the drawbacks of having an unemployed husband is that he 1) tends to stay up very late and 2) the only time you really get to talk to him is late in the evening, so you tend to stay up late, as well.
Oh, well -- as long as I can hold out until 9:00 PM, I'll be all right (if I go to sleep before 9, I'll wake up around midnight, and won't be able to get back to sleep until 5:00 AM or so, which really mucks with my sleep cycle). The drive home should be interesting, though. . .
Speaking of sleeping, I had the weirdest dream Saturday night. I was pregnant with twin boys and about to pop, and Lyndon had transmuted into someone else who was a secret agent (as you do). I was one, as well, and we were being hunted by bad guys when I went into labor. Dream-Lyndon managed to get me to a hospital where I had the boys (and there was a very odd interlude when we argued about their names -- we'd decided a long time ago that a son would be named William Lievesley Fletcher after Lyn's paternal and maternal grandfathers, but the second boy was a puzzle), then we had to grab them and run for our lives again.
I have no idea
what that means, but it was certainly interesting trying to nurse two babies
right before a shootout.