Thursday, July 24, 2008

In Love With The Milk Man

According to my husband, I say interesting things in my sleep. It all started the first few months of married life. He kept pulling all the sheets off of me and snoring so loud I started dreaming that I was sitting on a jet runway waiting for takeoff. After about a week of broken sleep I unconsciously snapped. He tells the story better than I can, beginning with the fact that he thought he married a soft-spoken, sweet, little person. Turning over and pulling the covers away from me for what seemed to be the thousandth time, I growled at him like the girl in the movie The Exorcist. “GIVE ME THE $*#% BLANKET, NNNNOW!” He claims that he slept with one eye open for the rest of the night,"hugging (his) pillow tight," as a Metallica song suggests one should do in case of a nocturnal visit from an evil sandman. I don’t remember that at all, really. That’s so not like me. :)

The truth of the matter is, people tend to be more honest and vulnerable in their sleep. I remember as a teenager knowing that the middle of the night was the best time to ask mom for money. At slumber parties, I was always the first tween to fall asleep. That meant that I’d find my underwear in the freezer the next morning next to the box of Eggos.These days sleeping still gets me in trouble. One night I mumble something about loving the milkman. Although this occupation no longer exists, my husband, who works long hours, grows suspicious. He knows I get my groceries delivered sometimes. He decides to question me further, hoping my replies will be audible. He leans close to my ear in the middle of the night and asks, “What about the milkman?"

Fast asleep, I respond, “Oh, I loooooooove him.” My husband sits up, surprised.

“Really!?” Negatively intrigued, he investigates. “What do you love about him?”

"I always run out of milk...He brings it even when I ...ask.”

My husband pauses in the dark, wondering if he'll soon regret his secret interrogation. He whispers, “What’s his name?”He taps my arm until I reply.

“His name is…. You. If you were a super hero... you’d be... Milk Man.”

“Huh?” He laughs. OH. Okay, that's right, it’s me…Well, Goodnight.”

1 comment:

Elizabeth Kathryn Gerold-Miller said...

I'm always afraid of what I might say in my sleep!

Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.


Loren Christie

Be Our Guest!

Be Our Guest!
Come tour the John Scudder Havens Historic Homestead at 15 Main Street, Center Moriches, NY. Click on the picture for more infomation.

Search This Blog