P was attacked at approximately 3:30 this morning by the dreaded Monkey Mind.
Oh, I was an excellent wife, full of empathy for his distracted state. For about a minute. Then somehow it was seven AM, and only one of us had slept. Now over the last few months I have envied my husband, who would slumber the night away while my brain made random lists and tried to scare me with various foreign language scenarios. Now, down to one job, my brain is beginning to check out successfully for eight hours at a time, and my mate finds himself goaded into wakefulness and stumbling across our rental cabin for a glass of water and some online poker.
Pictures of the reason for this will follow when we get back to Houston, and a happy reason it is: the trusses for the roof went up yesterday, and the silhouette of a real house is suddenly there for everyone to see. It is thrilling! This house has gone from a pencil sketch to the library to the architect and engineer to the builder to reality, and P made it all happen. It's truly the work of a lifetime.
And the closer it gets, the realer it becomes - the more questions arise. More details, more unconsidered problems, more creative ideas, more worries. More's the chance that, instead of simply rolling over at 3:30, you'll completely break the surface of sleep's great lake and start wondering where to put the kitchen island.
I don't wish more sleeplessness on my dear P, but it was nice this bleary morning to give him a shoulder as he has given me so often. Man, is it hard to let the chatter go. It feels so busy, so connected, so much like work.
Sigh. Living the questions. Big times.