I jolted awake an hour ago with Ian holding me whispering that everything was fine and I would be all right. This is just the latest in a series of bad dreams that I can’t remember when I wake up. They’re obviously bad enough that I’m waking him and most of the time I’m sweating so hard that I feel slick against his skin, but he doesn’t think I need to press to remember what I’m dreaming about, not yet anyway. He thinks it’s all accident related and I’ll work through it one way or another, but if he gets too sleep deprived from being woken up he may dump me out of bed with an annoyed “Enough!”

Now he’s in the shower trying to wake up all the way so he can drive the kids to school (no, he did not want company, as ice cold showers don’t lend themselves to, as he puts it, my insane libido; I refuse to apologize for that) and make it back in one piece. I feel bad because I kept him awake late last night and woke him up an hour and a half early, and while he’s getting breakfast for the kids and taking them to school, I can climb back into bed (and I probably will, if he promises to wake me up when he gets home.) It’s tempting to cancel PT for today because I know he won’t want to drive out there again yet if I do he’ll probably blow a gasket.

I have time to weigh the merits versus the risks of that ;)

Oh and don’t let him fool you; he doesn’t have moobs and he’s not sprouting so much hair he needs electrolysis. He’s just a hotter version of his younger self, even if he’s annoyed by it all.