Last night, like many nights lately, I settled in our reclining love seat after a big dinner, popped the foot rest up, laid myself back, and fell asleep about 9:30. Lisa woke me about 11:15, and we went to bed. I got myself in bed and was almost out before Lisa came out of the bathroom. She leaned over and said, "Sleepy man." I was just awake enough to respond: "Somnambulist hero of legend, when only stillness and even breathing will do." She said something back, but I was already drifting off again.
That often happens with us, a silliness where we riff off of each other. Our dialog is often juvenile, puerile, intimate, or some combination of the three. We laugh until it hurts, sometimes until we cry, and our world is a better place for a while.