I know you’re sleeping. Just keep sleeping, babe.
I’ll be as quiet as I can. I just have some things to do…
Like post on this message board.
Shit, there’s still beer in the fridge. Last night: first time I’ve been able to drink, now that I’m off the painkillers.
At least I can now move without wincing.
The paper came. I collected it outside my door. Who decides to fold it and put an elastic around it one week, and then the next week, it’s flat and unelasticated (is that a word?)?
If I don’t make it back to bed soon, sweets, I might just read a couple of sections. I hope you can stay asleep.
OK, now you’ve turned over or something, and are snoring. I’m going to have to push you back on your side.
(I’m guilty of snoring too…)
It’s a long weekend and you could spend the day with me and stay here tonight and watch the finale of X-Files tomorrow, but I don’t think I want you around that long.
You’re better in small doses.
See, taking you out for lunch, like I used to, implies attachment of some sort. We’ve made it clear that was not the deal.
But I’m generous, and have more money than you. So if you’re hungry, what can I do but make sure you eat?
We’ll see. Just keep sleeping, sweet boy.
I have one phone call to make, then I’ll be back in bed.