I’ve never done anything very interesting while I’m asleep, beyond rolling around a bit, occasional light snoring and a bit of sweating. Until Monday night, that is, when I did the nearest thing I’ve ever done to sleepwalking.
I was having a very vivid dream, you see, that took place in the bedroom. Over on the other side of the bed, Some food had spilled onto the floor – I think it was a large amount of sausages, but very very thin sausages, almost like noodles. Anyway, there was a ton of it and if I didn’t get it off the floor soon I wouldn’t be able to eat it because it would be covered in carpet filth.
So I rushed out of the bedroom, in my dream, and headed to the kitchen so I could get something to hold all the slender sausages. The first drawer I opened had all the plates in it, and they were no use, so I closed that one and opened the next drawer where all the bowls were.
I picked up a big bowl and headed back to the bedroom in a hurry.
It was only when I was opening the bedroom door, bowl in hand, that I realised what I was doing, and that there were no sausages on the floor, because that had been a dream. It was 3am and I was now awake, carrying a bowl to the bedroom.
I did the only thing that seemed sensible, which was to put it down by the side of the bed and go back to sleep.
15 comments on “Bowl”
No. You’re completely wrong.
The sensible thing to do would have been to go out to buy some sausages, take them home, cook them and eat the suckers.
I’m not sure you could class that as anything but sleepwalking, and for excellent reasons.
Did you blame Kate for the bowl being there in the morning?
I don’t know about you, but I don’t have anywhere I can buy sausages at 3am. My shopping is strictly dayside.
Oh of course, silly me. The farm shop doesn’t open until 5am. What a to do.
Look, the fact is that if I’d woken up a second time and found there actually were very thin noodle-like sausages on the floor, because my dream had actually been a premonition, I’d have had a bowl on hand already. This is proof, if proof be need be, that I’m extremely sensible, responsible and intelligent.
I think what you’re trying to do is justify not eating sausages when you had a perfect opportunity to do so. You’ve done sausages all wrong and I am sorry but you must be ridiculed for it.
The outlook for me isn’t great right now. The best I can hope for is that all the sausage ridicule coming my way will be thin noodle-like sausage ridicule to match the type of sausage I forsook.
We all need a lambasting every now and then. If we didn’t then we’d all be boasting kings and queens, legs both open and closed, nipples out as far as you could see, striding around with the leg span of a giraffe, or possibly Kev.
I couldn’t match the leg span of a Kev if I tried.
Remember, though, if you’re going to indulge in a bit of lambasting, that lambasting is more than just eyes.
You’d need a lot of leggage if you were going to attempt it. You’d need to borrow some from people at work and sew them together.
It is, it so is. You’ve got to make sure you get your mouth and chin in on that lambasting action.
The ideal lambast is a combination of eyes, mouth, chin and gyrating arms, all at the correct ratios and in the right order.
One day I’ll get there.
Legs can lambast too. Just quietly and with maximum sass.
If you were gunning for a page the next time Chris is doing a yearly calendar for all of us, Kev, then I think you just earned it with that last comment.
Yep. That’s a pageworthy line right there.
What I’d probably do is also include Ian’s comment underneath it, just to make it a bit meta.
Meta is good. They won’t be expecting that (what?)