Patty likes enthusiasm, but...

Jef doesn't do anything halfway—he's an "anything worth doing is worth overdoing" kind of guy. If you didn't know this before you started reading this blog, you certainly know it by now—it's not enough for him simply to run a marathon, he has to run it fast enough to qualify for Boston.
  
I appreciate that sort of enthusiasm—I really do. I even admire it. But the guy even sleeps enthusiastically, which has this tendency to get in the way of my ability to sleep, um, at all.

Jef's enthusiastic sleeping may have something to do with the fact that he is (Attention Tim R.! Minor dirt alert!) chronically sleep deprived, which may have something to do with the fact that he doesn't do anything halfway and therefore cannot possibly accomplish everything he wants or needs to in a given 24-hour day without sacrificing a little bit—or a lot—of sleep. It's a vicious cycle, and it's one that causes the man who despises multi-tasking to multi-task in his sleep.

Hasn't had much time to spend with me lately? Something in Jef's subconscious will spur him to try to converse with me while he's still sleeping. Sometimes this leads to him rolling over when I'm awake, reading quietly next to him, and saying, sincerely, "I'm sorry. I sort of blanked there. What did you just say?" And sometimes this leads to truly inexplicable utterances, like the time he sat up, cleared his throat, and said, "Moo. Moo."

Not enough time to train? Jef's subconscious thinks training while sleeping is an excellent idea. I learned early in our marriage that an extra bed in the house is a necessity, not a luxury. Jef swims, bikes and runs in his sleep. (On one particularly memorable night a few years ago, he played hockey—goalie!—in his sleep.)

I just move to another room and leave the dog and cats to deal with his thrashing.

When we first got married, I'd sometimes awaken in the middle of the night to find Jef getting ready for work—rummaging in the closet for his clothes or heading into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. And more than once, I woke to the sound of the shower running, stumbled into the bathroom to see what was going on and found him, asleep, in the bathtub.

Both of us are relieved that Jef no longer sleepwalks—we were both a little concerned the night he woke up outside our apartment building. But 20+ years later, he's still an active sleeper.

I wouldn't trade Jef for anyone, and I love his enthusiasm. But, man. We'd both be better rested with a little less of it...