Unclear weirdness

Last night, or this morning maybe, the weirdest thing happened. I like to read before I go to bed. I typically have several books I read at one time, and choose my nighttime ritual by what mood I am in. My grandmother likes to read too. She reads several books a week, I am told, and does the same thing as me. Recently, she finished the Barbara Walters memoir, "Audition." She told me that she never really liked Barbara Walters, but that after reading her book, she's got a new respect for her. When we got back from Arizona, I stopped by the library and picked up a copy. I'm only 45 pages into it, and it happened to be the book I was reading last night before I went to bed.

I still think I was having residual effects from the anesthesia yesterday because I was really out of it after work and after my doctor appointment. We went to my sister-in-law's house for dinner, and I could not stop yawning or shake the constant throbbing in my head. Cyndi's aunt/uncle/cousin are in town from Florida, so my preference would have been to be more social since I have not seen them in a long time. Not the case. I was interacting in a haze, and tried my best to be an active participant in the conversations.

That's not really the weird part. What's weird is the last thing I remember before I fell into a really deep sleep, was taking off my glasses and putting the Barbara Walters book and my glasses down on my nightstand. When I woke up this morning, I could not find either of them. I looked under the bed, around the bed, on the bed, in the bathroom. Nothing. Cyndi put on her contacts and helped me look. She could not find them either. It was really freaking me out.

For anyone who relies on glasses knows that if you can't find them and, like me do not have a spare pair, panic strikes pretty quickly.

I was just about to panic when I found the book. It was on the kitchen table. I have no clue how it got there, but it was one step closer to seeing things more clearly. My glasses were nowhere in sight. After nearly 20 minutes, Cyndi found my glasses on her desk next to her computer.

Obviously, I had an episode of sleepwalking last night. My parents used to tell me that I did this a lot as a child. They said they often had to chase me around the dining room table to manipulate me back to bed. Cyndi has told me that I used to talk in my sleep quite a bit, but that has seemed to stop in recent months. It's pretty freaky to find your things misplaced when you are sure that they were put where you left them. Today I feel back to normal, whatever normal is. Maybe I should put my glasses someplace safe before I go to bed. Barbara Walters has a book full of people to keep her safe.