Big Fisch came down with a nasty cold he wasn’t able to shake for over a week.
Being the one with the weaker immune system, I did what I could to try and avoid catching his virus.
I used separate hand towels, Cloroxed the door handles, only gave him “air hugs”, and slept in the guest room.
It’s not that I’m a germaphobe, it’s just that his nose was running like there was no tomorrow and his sneezes seemed powerful enough to blow down a straw, stick, AND brick house.
I didn’t want any part of that nonsense.
Whenever I have to sleep in the guest room, Big Fisch seems to take it as a personal offense on some subconscious level. He always agrees that it’s best for me to sleep elsewhere when he’s sick, or on a bad sleep walking kick, yet for some reason it’s almost like he has to convince himself that I’m a villain of some kind so that he won’t miss me.
The other night I was finally able to sleep in our bed again. I was pretty tired after several nights of poor sleep in our less-comfortable guest bed, and fell asleep quickly after I got all tucked in.
Well into the night, I heard Big Fisch stir and start to talk. It woke me quickly, as my mind had gotten used to peace AND quiet down the hall.
I rolled over to see what the commotion was as he got up and climbed out of bed.
“Zaizen?” He called out in a worried voice.
(Zaizen is one of his more common nicknames for me these days. Yes, you read me right… Zaizen. Rhymes with Crasin. I don’t get it either.)
“Yes?” I asked.
“No…Zaizen?….” He shook his head at me as he paced between the bed and the dresser.
“Get in bed hun…you’re just sleeping, it’s okay.”
He leaned over and grabbed the side of the bed, keeping one foot back by the dresser, afraid to get too close. He bent down to get a clearer look at my face.
“No you’re Creepy Zaizen!!” He shouted and pointed. Backing up, he slowly walked away from the bed, keeping his eye on me all the while to make sure I didn’t turn into more of a monster.
“Babe…it’s just me. You’re dreaming. Get back in bed.”
He looked at me like a kid who thinks they’re being lied to. Hesitantly he said, “Okay…okay. I just need to turn the light on first.” (A common routine in his sleep walking).
“Fine” I sighed.
“Cover your eyes!” he shouted.
“I’m covering them! Just turn the light on.”
He scampered to the bathroom, turned on the light, and peered out at me to get one last look at the creepy creature he saw laying in his bed.
This had become his space…his sleeping quarters…and I was an intruder; a creepy one at that.
As the light began to bring him out of his sleep, he became more convinced I was someone he knew. He shut the light off, crawled back in bed, and fell asleep.
I felt as if I were starring in The Hobbit.
Per usual, I waited to hear a rhythmic breathing from him, gave a sigh, and drifted back off thinking just another night in the life….
In the morning I waited until Big Fisch came down for breakfast to ask him if he remembered any of it.
He paused and looked at me with sharp eyes. “Yep. You were an evil creepy creature in my bed. I wasn’t used to having someone there, so when I felt your presence I knew you were going to attack me.”
Yes. That was my exact agenda. Help nurse him back to health and get back to our bed, all so that I could morph into a creature, and attack him.
There was no pamphlet in my Pre-Marital Class, or chapter in the how-to-be-a-good-wife books that stated, “Warning: marriage may involve strange nicknames, a sleep walking spouse, and the need to convince your husband you are not a creepy creature, villain, or evil witch trying to poison him.”
Turns out life really is full of surprises.