Some people sleep-walk. Pretty amateur, if you ask me. I take it to the next level and icorporate useful activities with my unconscious meanderings. I am the Michael Phelps of sleep-activity.
Last night, for example, Jacqueline got up to take care of Benjamin at some point, and when she came back, I was taking the sheets off the bed. Walking? that’s easy. Try doing laundry in your sleep. When she asked me what I was doing, I said “just trying to help…” and got mad when she made me stop “helping.” Eventually I went back to bed.
I have a long career in sleep-activity. In college, my roommate Matt woke up one morning to find me comfortably asleep on the couch underneath my lofted bed. I had taken the sheets off of my bed (which was tough to do awake) and neatly tucked them into the cushions of the couch.
But the glory days of my sleep-activity were back in the mid-80s. I would “wake up” and walk across the room to the “toilet,” which happened to be whatever random peice of furniture I got to in my bedroom, and pee in/on it. This included peeing into a drawer full of my neatly folded clothes, and (on a seperate occasion) peeing onto the antique cedar chest in my room. We’ve still got that chest, and it still has a spot on it where you can clearly see the pee-stains. Good times.
I’m working on more extreme forms of sleep-stuff (incorporating flaming darts, penguins, and hot pockets into my sleep routine as we speak), and petitioning the X-Games to make it an official sport. Then, the olympics.