"Come look at something," he said as we woke up this morning, with an air of trepidation. When he is nervous, it makes me tense. I wondered what had happened.He guided me into the kitchen, which was a wreck. I'm not surprised by him wrecking the kitchen, as he seems to have designated it as a reflection of his mental space. Foul kitchen=foul mind.
"Look."
He pointed to a battery, an empty bottle of Windex, a bowl full of sugar, the lid to the coffee creamer shoved into the sink drain.
"I don't understand," I said.
"Me neither. I did all this while I was asleep."
Meanwhile, I realized he'd also turned the stove burner on while sleeping. Fortunately, it was on low. I turned it off.
The coffee creamer was in the refrigerator mixed with the Windex from the empty bottle. The squirt nozzle from the Windex was inserted into the coffee creamer. There were two cans sitting in the space in the freezer where you put a cup to get ice. There was a pot in the freezer. He'd ripped a sponge in half.
I'm not sure what he was cooking with Windex, a battery, coffee creamer, sugar, and a sponge, but I'm glad I'd woken him up before it all made it to the burner, and I'm glad he'd not turned the burner up higher.
I'd gotten up around 3 a.m. to ask him to turn off the lights, as he'd been kind of roaming through the house turning lights on and off. Him roaming around and being rude with the lights while I'm trying to sleep is not new, so I'd just asked him if he was coming to bed soon or if I should turn the lights off. He said he remembers me coming to get him because I startled him and he didn't know what he was doing. He'd realized he'd been doing something weird, but it only really impressed him with how weird it was when he got up later and saw the mess in the kitchen.
A friend pointed out that I might be afraid that he'll burn the house down in the night. Mostly, I'm not. I wonder what's wrong with me? Or what's right with me? I'm not willing to lose sleep over his behavior, no matter how bizarre
It's kind of interesting to think of how his brain is rewiring itself right now, and how those wires might get crossed while he's sleeping. He's like a living, breathing science project. Someone who knows how should come study him.
So if you all don't hear from me again, it's probably just because Mr. Junky accidentally built some sort of home-made bomb in the night and I've gone on to that big Nar-Anon meeting in the sky. Hah.
Image from Goblinmarket.net
