Last night, Keith fell asleep on the couch at six thirty in the evening. He's been very busy the last few days.
I knew, from lots of experience, that the longer I left him sleeping there, the harder he'd be to wake up. So, after about an hour, I closed up the computer and began the long, arduous process of convincing Keith that, one: he is not in his bed, two: he needs to get into his bed and three: I am his wife.
After, like, ten minutes of pointless cajoling on my part, Keith reached his limit.
"Just take it!" he cried, fending me off with his arm, his face pressed to the back of the couch. "Just take it, I don't care! Just take it, and go. Where's my wife? I want my wife."
I didn't know whether to laugh or pull my hair out. I'm sure laughing now. At the time, I thought he was being sarcastic, but after he really did wake up, he told me that he did think I was a complete stranger, bent on driving him crazy and after something. We'll never know what it was he thought I was after.
I guess an hour of sleep is too long, after all.