January 27 06

the husband, screaming:
“we need to!”

as he’s sitting himself up, at 2:37 in the morning:
“don’t touch me. don’t touch me.”

me, scared out of my mind:
“What the hell is the matter with you?”

him, looking at me:
“You and I need to have a conversation.”

?:
“What?”

“I have to decide if i’m going to go or stay.”

“What? What? What?”

“About Perfect Dark.”

aha…now it’s all making sense.
my husband has been poisoned my his new xbox.
just when i thought my nights of interrupted sleep were over, he’s having xbox nightmares. great.

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