So if you’ve followed this blog for any significant amount of time, you’ve probably figured out that I like food. A lot. As it turns out, it may be a lot more than even I thought.
I woke up early Sunday morning to an empty bed. I got out from underneath the sleepy warmth of the comforter and started wandering through the house looking for my sweetheart. I didn’t have to look far, she was snuggled under a blanket in the front room tapping on her Mac (probably shopping) and struggling to keep her sleep-heavy eyelids open.
“What are you doing, sweetie?” I asked groggily.
“Shopping” she confirmed.
“Why don’t you come back to bed and snuggle?” I asked.
She looked up at me, all signs of sleepiness gone. “Seriously?” she asked, with a frustration-tinged voice.
“umm, yeah?” I responded, half questioning my own answer and not having a clue as to the source of her frustration.
“I don’t know WHAT the hell you were dreaming about, but all night long you were “OM NOM NOM NOM NOM” and it was LOUD! And even when I’d shove you or elbow you to wake you up, you’d just go “what?!”, then roll over and go back to “OM NOM NOM NOM!” all night long!” she said in that tired and frustrated voice that only happens after a sleepless night that could have been prevented.
So apparently I dream about food, too. Loudly.
Or maybe I just like to talk so much I gotta do it 24/7.
It really could be either one.
