Momnesia

Again with the crazy talk in the middle of the night. I stay up to get some cleaning done, and when I come to bed he pats me on the shoulder. I think he’s awake. I am, as usual, dead wrong.

“Honey, what time do you have to get up?”
“mmmmmffff....”
(pause)
“Okay, what time do you have to be at work?”
“mmmmm.... “
“What time do you have to be at work?”
“‘ess...”
“What? Ten?”
“Nest.”
(pause)
“Um, what time is that?”
“Nest.”
(giggle. snort.)
“What time?”
He takes his face out of the pillow to better enunciate and says very clearly: “NEST.”
(snort. chuckle.)
“Okay. Well, I don’t know what time that is.”
“NEST.”
“Where is that on the clock?”
“55 across.”
I’m trying not to wake him seriously, but I’m laughing so hard that my spit is out of control.
“What did you say?”
“55 across. Nest.”
He sits up. I can’t control my volume anymore.
“Nest!” I cackle. ”Nest!”
He looks at me guffawing, sprawled out across the bed, and grins sleepily at me.
“I’m glad you find me so amusing.”
“Honey, do you have any idea what you’re talking about.”
He pauses and considers this. Then picks up his hand and pokes me in the forehead with his forefinger.”
“Meps,” he says.
“What?”
He does it again.
“Meps.”
“What’s meps?”
“Like the aliens.”
“Aliens?”
“Yeah. You know.”

No. I don’t know. What I do know is that my husband is a freak.