My dearest, darling, heartthrob of a husband,
In so many words, last night you told me I talk a lot. Not specifically a lot in general. But you pointed out that starting at exactly 10:30pm, and sometimes exactly 11, I throw my leg off my body pillow, prop myself up on my elbows and let every thought that's crossed my mind that day loose into the darkness and into your listening ears. You said that you love it, but you said that you love it in the middle of a yawn, which was not terribly convincing. We both know that you fall asleep in three seconds, so maybe this is just my way of equalizing the playing field. Making sure that one of us isn't asleep for a full whole hour before the other. Or maybe it's just the time of day when talking together is genuinely the very best, because we're warm and close.
But assuming it's the former, here are just a few observations that I've made during the nights when I don't finagle a long conversation out of you, and you are sleeping and I am not.
1. You have a better than average sleeping face. I would even venture to give it a 10, because somehow your mouth never ever opens, even during your deepest breathing. Impressive. And cute.
2. Everett talks in his sleep.
3. Cheddar cheese eaten in bed is almost completely untraceable.
4. 1am is an ideal time for silent theories to be made about how the size and density of our individual pillows is an accurate representation of our personalities.
5. I like the way our house looks, with street lamps and moonlight dimly lighting the signs of our life throughout the quiet house. Namely Everett's fort, dishes that I'm putting off until tomorrow, the bowl of popcorn we shared on the table, your shoes at the end of our bed, and your dress shirts draped over your bike. PS. Why do you drape your dress shirts over your bike? Your clothes hangers are getting lonely.
6. You kiss my back every time I come back from the bathroom. And that's a lot.
7. I only ever use Photobooth at strange hours. For bump selfies, and faux bob selfies, and to confirm what I have been told a thousand times: my resting face looks like I'm mad.