my clock is totally screwed up. i keep thinking that i have my body on straight, then i hit a sleepy pocket at 1pm or worse...hit an energy pocket at 1am.
last night the plan was to make it an early one. FL is so exhausted from work and house remodeling that we both agreed an evening of pizza and film would be best. 11pm rolled around and he was out cold, with me not too far behind...
about two hours later (i could tell cause the TV was still playing softly upstairs, and FLs dad usually has it on till 1 or 2) my eyes flew open. I had been having a weird nightmare about my friend Jacqui and being hauled off from a trucker bar by some guy with a gun. In the end I defeated him, but it left me startled, my heart racing.
For the next couple of hours I just laid there, wide awake, afraid to move for fear of waking poor FL, who was snoring so softly. After a while though, the thought of our left over pizza started to worm its way into my brain...
Italians do not refrigerate their left over pizza. they leave it out overnight and consume it for breakfast. the first couple of times i saw this i thought it was gross, but it's actually unbelievably delicious. the flavors meld and the crust becomes more chewy. when we had come home from Bosc di Sot, FL had lain the pizza box next to our coffee maker (which is next to our bed, ha!) in anticipation of colazione. but i had other ideas...
3:30am and i had pizza on the brain. i decided to risk it.
slowly, i made my way out of bed. each step i took caused a tiny creak on the floorboards, and i would freeze as FL's breathing became less regular. when he let out another snore, i would take another step. the room was pitch black. i was traveling by scent, feel.
just when i could tell that i was directly over the pizza box, just as i crouched, fingers wide, ready to abscond with the pizza box (my plan was to steal it and go eat in the bathroom)...
"Piccola? Cosa fai?"
"um. nothing."
"are you looking for water?"
"no."
"are you dreaming?"
"no."
"would you like to turn on the light and read?"
"no, no. no." I pattered back to bed, climbed under the covers, tried to play it off.
"piccola."
"ugh! i just wanted maybe a little pizza."
"mmmm," he purred, amused. "i have been thinking the exact same thing."
He plugged in the twinkly lights next to our bed, sweet red plastic hearts, and went over to scoop up the pizza box. In silence, we propped up our pillows and settled in to eat our slices, munching slowly. his eyes were closed.
when the pizza had been devoured and fullness had returned to our bellies he put the box away, unplugged the lights, and threw his arm over me.
"I love eating snacks with you," he said sleepily, as he drifted off.
last night the plan was to make it an early one. FL is so exhausted from work and house remodeling that we both agreed an evening of pizza and film would be best. 11pm rolled around and he was out cold, with me not too far behind...
about two hours later (i could tell cause the TV was still playing softly upstairs, and FLs dad usually has it on till 1 or 2) my eyes flew open. I had been having a weird nightmare about my friend Jacqui and being hauled off from a trucker bar by some guy with a gun. In the end I defeated him, but it left me startled, my heart racing.
For the next couple of hours I just laid there, wide awake, afraid to move for fear of waking poor FL, who was snoring so softly. After a while though, the thought of our left over pizza started to worm its way into my brain...
Italians do not refrigerate their left over pizza. they leave it out overnight and consume it for breakfast. the first couple of times i saw this i thought it was gross, but it's actually unbelievably delicious. the flavors meld and the crust becomes more chewy. when we had come home from Bosc di Sot, FL had lain the pizza box next to our coffee maker (which is next to our bed, ha!) in anticipation of colazione. but i had other ideas...
3:30am and i had pizza on the brain. i decided to risk it.
slowly, i made my way out of bed. each step i took caused a tiny creak on the floorboards, and i would freeze as FL's breathing became less regular. when he let out another snore, i would take another step. the room was pitch black. i was traveling by scent, feel.
just when i could tell that i was directly over the pizza box, just as i crouched, fingers wide, ready to abscond with the pizza box (my plan was to steal it and go eat in the bathroom)...
"Piccola? Cosa fai?"
"um. nothing."
"are you looking for water?"
"no."
"are you dreaming?"
"no."
"would you like to turn on the light and read?"
"no, no. no." I pattered back to bed, climbed under the covers, tried to play it off.
"piccola."
"ugh! i just wanted maybe a little pizza."
"mmmm," he purred, amused. "i have been thinking the exact same thing."
He plugged in the twinkly lights next to our bed, sweet red plastic hearts, and went over to scoop up the pizza box. In silence, we propped up our pillows and settled in to eat our slices, munching slowly. his eyes were closed.
when the pizza had been devoured and fullness had returned to our bellies he put the box away, unplugged the lights, and threw his arm over me.
"I love eating snacks with you," he said sleepily, as he drifted off.
1 comment:
Such a sweet post! Love it.
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