I hit my wife last night.
No, we didn’t have an argument that went out of control. I didn’t come home drunk and started seeing red everywhere, either. It happened while we were asleep!
I was dreaming last night, like I always do. And “appended” to my regular dream of elevators and detective offices and clinics (I should tell you about them soon), I dreamed that I was in pursuit of a cockroach.
It was the fly-fly-fly type, covered in green slime (don’t know why) and it was zooming in and out the window and around my head, enticing me to smash it. Which I did. Only the chemicals from my brain which were supposed to keep my body from enacting out my dreams weren’t sent from my brain, or maybe not enough was sent because I smashed a closed fist down on my wife’s leg.
End of a good night’s sleep.
She now has a “Police Line; No Crossing” sign on her leg.
Now that I’ve thought about it, it looked more like a cicada, rather than a roach. Still, damage done. My beloved M was sniffing all morning during breakfast.