9

Yesterday, Hubby and I both woke up at 6:30. We both started to dress.

"Go back to sleep," I told him.

"I've got to go to work," he mumbled.

"You don't have to go to work," I said.

"It's the working hour."

"Only for me," I explained. "It's Saturday."

Poor guy. Either tax season is contagious or he was having a bad dream. He slid back under the covers complaining he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again.

I got about an hour to myself, working from my remote, remote office (the living room), before he was up again.

Nine more days. I'll sleep on the tenth.