My husband, who is deployed right now, had to come to Washington, DC, for a meeting. And since we live near DC, this meant that he was coming home unexpectedly. As you can imagine, I was delighted. Okay, delighted with reservations. He's only been gone two months, so I have made close to zero progress on my whole "get skinny-clean and decorate the house-save a bjillion dollars-transform the children into model citizens" plan. But those aren't really the important things, so I was truly delighted when he climbed into the car at the airport.
The first night, (when I'm sleeping on my own side of the bed instead of his side, where I sleep while he's gone,) I wake up in the middle of the night and realize that there is someone in my bed and it isn't a child. I clearly wasn't entirely awake because I'm perplexed. I'm pretty sure that I know who this person is, like his name and his personality, but I'm not exactly sure how he's related to me or why he is in my bed. In my delirium, I figured I'd better go sleep on the sofa. As I'm fumbling around for my glasses, it occurs to me: maybe I'm married to him. Since this sounds vague familiar, and I'm really tired, and the sofa is at least twenty five feet away, I just put my head back down on the pillow.
Fortunately, my confusion was gone when I woke up properly the next morning. However, it made clear to me how hard it must be for my husband's brain to keep track of the upheaval of his life. And it was funny, in retrospect. Plus, I remembered who he was for the whole rest of the visit. Yeah!
