Why my husband doesn't get "Law and Order."

I know, I know. We're not supposed to have access to Law and Order without a television. But don't you know a junkie will obtain her drug of choice by any means necessary? Most evenings, we load up an episode on the laptop, get in bed and fall asleep like any normal American couple too tired and mad at each other for sex.

My husband, who enjoys many hobbies such as tennis, beer-drinking and truck-like snoring, always falls asleep within moments. This irritates me. I'm all into the story and I can't hear because the noise from the other side of the bed sounds like a dying elephant, with a really bad cold. If the story is compelling enough (which it is in every single episode, because Law and Order, in every incarnation, rocks), I pause it and punch him in the arm until he wakes up. He is a big, fat liar and always claims he was awake the whole time. So I quiz him on the plot. And he never knows the answers. Ha!

Anyhow, the other night, after a beat-down by me, he whined,

"You think it's bad for you? Imagine how it is for me. Every night, I watch some guy die. And there is never any resolution."

This cracked me up, which is always the simplest way to end a fight. He had the grace to acknowledge, though, that for a defense attorney like him, murder with no evidence or guilty-beyond-reasonable-doubt perp is pretty awesome.

I used to envy him his ability to pass out cold in any situation. I toss and turn and often, on the verge of sleep, get woken by some small noise and have to start all over. But, guess what? Since the introduction of Wellbutrin into my deranged chemical make-up, I fall asleep after the guy dies, too. Just like that. Now we watch the same episode two nights in a row and I still don't catch the end. Is this what it's like to be normal? Ish?

In other news, The Tank has a new habit. In a past life, he must have been some old guy from the country. About ten times a day, he says, "Well..." But he pronounces it "Way-ull," as in "Way-ull, I reckon them new folk up the road is just a little too citified, with their fancy cars and teeth and wearin' shoes ever' day and such." But the Tank is usually talking about something relevant to his life.

"Way-ull. I'ma play with my trains."

"Way-ull. You change my diaper. It stinks.*"

"Way-ull. I'ma not wear my jacket. It's not for me."

"It's not for me" is another favorite phrase, like he's trying to be polite. What he really means is, "Hay-ull NO, I ain't wearin' no mother-truckin' jacket. Day-um!"

Good thing he's cute. And that we have a lot of babysitters.

Namasté, y'all!

* Way-ull, the potty still ain't happenin' 'round here. Hay-ulp!