(My husband is usually very good at waking up quickly enough to know when he’s just spouted sleepy nonsense. A couple of mornings after a gig, though, I rolled over to hug him, and was greeted with…)

Husband: *mumbles.*

Me: “Hmm?”

Husband: “Didn’t you?”

Me: “…what?”

(By this point, my husband would normally realise things don’t add up. However, he keeps repeating ‘didn’t you?’)

Me: *laughing* “I have no idea what you’re saying!”

Husband: “You asked when that bald fella was singing next.”

Me: “…what?!”

Husband: “Yeah. Where. You kissed him. He was where I am and you kissed him.”

Me: *still laughing* “Do you know how little sense you’re making right now?”

Husband: “…no.”

(I have never before had a conversation with him where he didn’t wake up properly. I think I might have to talk with him about my ‘type,’ though, if he thinks male bald musicians are it…)