There's one thing I love to do at night after tucking the boys in bed. Sometimes in the summertime I do it out on the porch. Sunday night Mr. D and I did it in the armchairs in front of the fireplace, me beneath my Pepto-Bismo pink Snuggie, Mr. D in his sweatpants--read. Nothing winds me down for sleeping more than reading a good book.
There wouldn't seem to be a conflict with this, would there? Yet Mr. D thinks nothing is more relaxing than watching TV. And he watches TV man-style, which really means flipping through channels and switching between as many as 6 channels at once. Distracting? Yes. Irritating? Absolutely. Relaxing? Not at all. And every night there he sits in bed flipping through channels next to where I want to lie in bed with a good book and read in silence. So I either have to stop reading because of the damn TV or move to another room which isn't nearly as pleasant as reading in bed at night.
What's a girl to do?
Find her hubby a good book.
But I did better than that, friends! I found Mr. D a series by Robert Jordan. Fourteen books. By my calculations I should enjoy TV-free evenings in bed for the next 17 months, exceptions occur during NFL playoff games and when MLB starts in spring.
The only down side to this miracle is that Robert Jordan is dead, so after Mr. D finishes book 14 in this series I'm going to have to come up with a new author. Wherever you are, Robert Jordan, you've made bedtime a happier place for this girl and she thanks you.