Our internal clocks are still out of whack. On Friday we got home at 19:00 and fell into bed at 19:04. The following day, I found out it was actually 20:04, which I’m blaming on Emirates Airlines (useless bunch of slackers). This is how come I stumbled out of bed the following morning at 07:00 in the mistaken belief that it was 08:00.
On Sunday night we slept badly; Husband because he was struggling to align his body clock with the ambient light in the room; me because Husband stumbled over his shoes on the way to the bathroom and left the door open with the light on.
Last night we were both wide-awake at 03:57hrs. I mean, we couldn’t have been more alert and brim-full of energy if we had mainlined a gram of Grade A adrenalin.
For a while, we lay in the darkness and talked. I love our midnight chats. Last night we covered rain, Husband’s pointy elbows, shuh-tzis, my relatively recent and extreme anti-fetish about Husband breathing on my neck, and the Niamh-relevant features of the Honda VFR800. We did not discuss the many and varied reasons Husband loves me, which was evidently an oversight.
Eventually, after a quarter of an hour, we went downstairs and watched a movie