A.D.T.

Far from an unusual occurrence, last night I couldn’t sleep. Often I will get up and do something, anything, to keep me from getting frustrated and killing people. If I accomplish something, my lack-of-sleep-time has not been wasted.
While trying to decide what I could do, it became perfectly clear that I had plenty of entertainment right in my own bed. *Get your filthy mind out of the gutter.*
The Mister also seemed to be having difficulties with the Sandman. The Mister and I are not strangers to doing curious things while sleeping. My nocturnal unawares are usually productive; I’ll get dressed and ready to go (where is anybody’s guess), make lunch or straighten up. The Mister does not get out of bed, he stays in place and acts things out. My favorite so far was the night I awoke to find covert operations taking place right beside me.
His hands were going one over the other and his feet were following as if he were climbing a rope. Staccato bursts of “Dut-dut---dut-dut-dut-dut---dut-dut” were being spoken, as if he actually knew Morse code. The Mister of Mystery.
Last night was a little different in the type of entertainment.
For dinner I had made a vegetarian feast of hummus, gazpacho and a brussel sprout dish; all was quite tasty and The Mister went for seconds on the sprouts. Between the garbanzo beans in the hummus and the sprouts, I knew I was in for one stinky evening. If only I had fully understood.
As I lay awake, I’d hear a little sigh from The Mister then he’d roll over wafting the sheets as he turned, releasing the most awful smell ever. He’d toss and toot, toot and toss. And these were no ordinary toots, they were Atomic Death Toots.
It was hysterical and I actually woke The Mister with my giggling. When I told him what was going on he responded, “Well you chose what to make for dinner and this gas is killing me. I’m so uncomfortable, it has to go somewhere.”

It’s a gorgeous day outside and I’m off for a walk to the grocery store. It’s time to stock up on Beano.