Peter and I have always each been chatty sleepers (apparently what is true in wakefulness is also true in sleep). We both tend to talk in our sleep and I have a habit of walking. It seems to get worse for both of us the less we sleep and or the more we have going on in our lives.

As a kid,  I repeatedly scared my mom by walking into her bedroom at night chasing foul balls. Playing second base obviously extended beyond the field and into my dreams. I would be chasing a grounder, running the bases or headed back to the dugout. I usually woke up at some point and stumbled, confused, back to bed. Later in life, I have dreams where I need to be somewhere so I go to the closet and get different clothes to put on. This was particularly bad in DC, I would wake up with piles of shirts next to the bed. The worst part is I tend to wake up somewhere in the middle of finding the perfect outfit and suddenly become paranoid that Peter is going to see me in the closet and I’m not going to be able to explain what I’m doing there.

Since having Baylie, my walking has more to do with her whereabouts. Peter just informed me that while he was working on the couch the other night, I came out of the bedroom convinced he had forgotten to put Baylor to sleep and that she was still awake somewhere in the house. A few nights before that, I walked out to the couch, woke up a little, was confused at what I was doing there and made up something along the lines of “I forgot to tell you good night”. Something about getting caught in the act of sleep walking is apparently very embarrassing for me.

In my daily thought process of “how can I get more done in a day?!” it hit me – I need to sleep clean. If I could just pick up a mop or the vacuum on my way to the closet or where ever else I travel in my dream state, I’d have a much more productive sleep schedule…if I could fold the laundry instead of piling it up next to the bed, I’d be in business.