At least I didn't wake him up screaming**

I think I've hit the winter doldrums. I've tried writing several times only to end up staring at the keyboard and then the screen and then the keyboard again. It's like life is just one a big ho-hum right now.

Paul made it home Wednesday evening. After picking him up at the airport and having dinner, he realized he'd forgotten a suitcase at the airport. Apparently, my amazing packing skills are no match for his. I could fit two weeks of clothes into the suitcase to send him out to CA but he couldn't figure out how to make it fit back in it to head home. Luckily, we had put in an extra bag for a just in case. He's been going non-stop since he got home with a variety of work-related stuff. Can't go in to details here but it's going to be a hairy few months relating to the business of the business. He keeps saying everything will end up being better when it's all said and done and I'm really trying to believe him. It's just so disheartening to see this man I adore under so much stress and pressure and know that there's nothing I can do to help him.

Except make cookies. And keep a steady supply of chocolate in the house. I am nothing but helpful in the sweets department.

I think his stress is rubbing off on me a bit. I've taken to conversing/randomly doing things in my sleep. Wednesday night, shortly after Paul came to bed, I decided the ceiling fan needed to be turned on. Our light switches are wired one for lights and one for the fan. For the six years we've lived in this house, Paul almost always turns on the light first and then the fan because he can't remember which switch is which. So, Wednesday night, I'm trying to turn on the ceiling fan but hit the light switch first. And even in my sleep, I managed to get a little jab in and made fun of the fact that he always does the same thing. Of course, I didn't remember turning on the ceiling fan until Paul told me about how the events transpired on Thursday morning.

Last night, I heard Paul up--he was getting a drink in the bathroom. I decided that since he was up, I should be too. I put on my glasses and walked into the bathroom, ready to start the day. Wouldn't have been so bad except that it was only 1:30 a.m. And I was still asleep. I dutifully went back to bed when he told me to do so, continuing to sleep until the alarm went off some five hours later.

**A few years ago, Paul had been gone on a week-long business trip. His first night back, while sound asleep, I rolled over and felt him in the bed beside me. It scared me and I sat upright in the bed and started screaming. He jumped out of bed, fist drawn, ready to slug an intruder. Still asleep, I looked over, saw him, and laid back down. I hadn't fully woken up so I was back to sleep in no time. Paul, however, spent the next hour or so trying to calm his racing heart and get back to sleep. The next morning, I told Paul about my "crazy dream" in which I was screaming. It was then that he informed me that it had most definitely had not been a dream and that he really didn't appreciate being woken up that way. But it is something we can laugh about now.