Before I go...

See? I knew that was going to happen. I was going to make a big dramatic "All I want is to be left fucking alooooooone" and then I would just HAVE to post something. Well, my tea hasn't kicked in yet, so here I go.

I have a history of sleepwalking. I did it ALOT when I was a little kid. Mama Cavefish would find me wandering aimlessly about the house in the wee hours of the morning, inquire as to just what, presume, I thought I was doing, and then when I answered that I was looking for the golden anvil that the unicorn left in the basement for me, well, she'd realize I was actually asleep and escort me back to bed.

In adulthood, my sleepwalking has been fewer and farther between. About every three years or so, I do it a few times in one week, and then I stop aburptly as I'd started.

Sleepwalking can be hilarious, but it can also be quite scary. Once, I woke up in the living room, fully dressed, with my roommate asking me just where I thought I was going at four in the morning wearing cutoff jeans shorts in the middle of February. Where was I going? I'll never know, because thankfully, I never got there. Once he came home and found me in his bed, and when he tried to wake me I angrily told him to get out of my room and leave me alone. He slept on the couch that night, and started locking his door the next.

Saturday morning, I woke up bright and early to go to class, and the first thing I noticed was my hamper at the foot of my bed. The thing about that is, my hamper doesn't live at the foot of my bed. It lives in the closet in my office. It never leaves the closet in my office. I live alone. TYM was not sharing a bed with me that night. The hamper was full, and therefore too heavy for the cats to have dragged it in, plus, the closet door is always closed. There was only one explanation: I was sleepwalking.

I spent most of my subway ride into Manhattan trying to figure out what I was planning to do with the hamper. It briefly crossed my mind that I may have tried to pee in it. Don't ask me why that crossed my mind, as there really isn't any explanation for that train of thought. When I arrived home later, I was happy to discover that I did not, in fact, pee in my hamper. That didn't solve the mystery, though. I don't ever actually remove the hamper from the closet when I do my laundry, so I probably wasn't trying to do laundry. If I was, than God, how boring am I?

I just had a thought as I typed this. The lightbulb in my bedroom had gone out earlier that day. Maybe I was going to try to change it by standing on my hamper? If so, I obviously abandoned that plan, and thank goodness for that.

Any theories? And no, I didn't take Ambien and I wasn't drunk and blacked out, just to answer those questions in advance. Go!