Michael's nocturnal antics have been legendary for as long as I have known him. I asked him this morning, after another memorable night time episode, what the hell had happened in his brain. He described being immersed in fantastical situations and I am only privy to his dialogue and his actions. Rather like being in his own action thriller...
There have been occasions when comedy is the main feature of his all too amazing dream sequences. Who could forget our cat in stilettos, climbing onto our bed with her suitcase and stealing Michael's bread out of the toaster, and departing down our hallway at high speed, on her stilettos.
Then there was Mister Carrot, who was the chosen delegate from the Salad and lectured Michael about the lack of healthy vegetables he was ingesting.
The tiny Red Tractor rocked in for a chat on another night. Michael also transformed into a television controller with suitable beeping noises whilst asleep, pointing his arm at the imaginary television floating above our bed...
Those were some of the past epics I could actually understand. During multiple other events, he talks in gibberish that can last for, literally, hours. If he is unwell or very anxious, he may go off for a wander, usually seeking the toilet. So far, he has not left the house or somewhere else we are staying. Fortunately, there are only very rare times he does not recognise me.
Back to the most recent chapter. I retired early and was almost instantly asleep. I became vaguely aware of Michael arriving next to me in our bed around midnight. Two hours later, he was off and racing. He had removed the tube to his CPAP mask (the bane of my existence) and claimed he could not re-attach the hose as he only had one arm...
Thoroughly cross at being woken out of a sound sleep, I had to turn on my light, put on my glasses and tend to his latest shenanigans. Successfully completing this operation, I told him to shut up, turn on his side and not disturb me again. Or else...
By then, I was thoroughly awake and even more irritated. So, I absently flicked through our accounts, checking the parlous state of our finances in the endless hope that miraculously, some additional loot had just turned up unannounced.
What stared me in the face were two transactions I had not authorised. These were not great amounts but there was exactly ten dollars difference between the two figures. They appeared to have originated from Google and the game Candy Crush.
Now I have never played Candy Crush in any way, shape or form. I could not explain how they have come to be in our account. Plus, with incoming bills this week, I had calculated every single cent. Now, my carefully balanced monies had been severely disrupted by these actions.
I tied to return to slumber, but I was really so worried, I think I only dozed. Rocketing out of bed at six o'clock, I was able to reschedule Michael's hearing aids payment and then block my card so it couldn't be used again. I need to contact the bank once the two amounts have finished "pending", so they can investigate further. Hopefully, I will get our funds back.
Returning to bed absolutely shattered, I realised that the bloke I love, who claimed to have somehow misplaced an arm, had possibly saved us from further financial chaos, courtesy of his very active brain. As this morning was the first cool one for a while, I cuddled up to him to warm up. gratefully falling back to sleep and deciding I wouldn't make him wash the dishes...!
Michael had morphed out of trouble into my saviour. Well, golly gosh!
Mister Carrot...
Which is exactly how Michael managed to get out of strife this morning!
No comments:
Post a Comment