I've been reading My Life in France, Julia Child's memoir and it's been such a delight, even though it's taking me forever to get through it. I just don't have the time to read any more and most of my reading happens during those snippets of time between timers and tasks. But every time I pick it up, it makes me happy and a little sad. It makes me a bit sad because I know in my heart of hearts that Chris and I were meant to be best friends with Paul and Julia. We just have (had) too much in common from the way our relationship works right down to our politics. They even had their home built in France with separate bedrooms because he was insomniac and she snored. They put a king-sized bed in one of the bedrooms for "snugly" time, something Chris and I plan to do when we have a home of our own. There is always a horrified gasp from people whenever Chris and I disclose that we don't share a bedroom. Well...that's not true. We do share a bedroom, just not for sleeping. Chris and I are just incompatible sleepers. We've tried it. Actually, we've fought with it. It's a miracle either of us survived the night with out broken ribs or black eyes. I remember one night where I actually laid a pillow across Chris's face. I didn't hold it down; I just gently laid it across his face and then quickly laid over on my side thinking he wouldn't notice that I did it. I love him, but when we try to actually sleep together, I want to kill him. I just don't see that as being very healthy to a relationship. And it's sleeping. What are we going to miss while we're unconscious?
The part I don't like about it is that right now, Chris is sleeping on the couch. We have plans to change this (it will happen!).