For as long as I can remember, I have suffered from insomnia. (Unlike the insanity in which not only do I not suffer from it, but I enjoy every moment of.) So, for me to say I’m going to bed that usually means I will hit the pillow about 45 minutes or so from then. Even then, I will most likely still be awake for at least an hour. Most nights I will read or write. Generally something non-disturbing to my slumber-loving husband. When he says he is going to bed, he is usually catching some serious Zs within moments. All things being equal. Unless of course you introduce the A-B theory.
The A-B theory pretty much involves A (me) annoying the every loving crap out of B (him).
Case in point: An hour after announcing I was going to bed, I actually made it to bed. He had just crawled under the covers and closed his eyes ready to sleep. (Silly, silly man!) In my defense, I had every initial intention of just reading. With my book light. But then the giggles hit.
“Clint. Hey, Clint look!”
I begin to do that thing where you hold a flashlight up to the ceiling and then take your hand and slowly cover it as if the Shadow of Doom is descending upon your room. Sound effects extra.
“Hey! You didn’t even look! LOOK!”
“I’m tired. I don’t want to”, but he still pops one eye half open.
Eagerly, I begin again with the Shadow of Doom (complete with the spooky ghost-like sounds effects.)
Both eyes pop open as he raises up on an elbow and stares at me.
“What?! Come on now, Clint. No one can resist the thrill of The Shadow of Dooooooooom!”
“Tomorrow, I am totally going to show you how when I shine a flashlight on my hand you can see the blood vessels and bones of my hand.”
“Pfffft! You used to be fun.”