The Prime Directive

You're all familiar with the StarFleet Prime Directive in Star Trek that says you can't interfere with other developing civilizations.  (Don't even try to pretend you don't know about it.  I know you're all as geeky as me.)

Well,  in the marriage between Robyn and I there is also a prime directive.   (It's not really a directive, more of a very important request.  But calling it the prime request is just lame.)

As you know, when I am sleeping there are some very important protocols that must be followed such as:

My pillows need to be piled to a very specific height.  I have dozens of pillows so that as pillows get older and their thickness changes I can swap in different pillows to achieve perfection.  (The softness of the pillows also requires some special calculations as well.)

The temperature needs to be deliciously cool. Sleeping requires snuggling with a blanket.  It should never be warm enough that snuggling is not comfortable.

Under no circumstances should my legs touch each other. This goes without explanation.  Why would anyone want their legs to touch?

But the Prime Directive, the most important rule of sleep, is quite simple: NO TOUCHING! We can cuddle before we go to sleep.  Discuss our day, hold each other in an extremely cute manner.  But once sleep time has come, the no touching policy is strictly enforced.  (Again, I use the term enforced loosely, as it means strongly requested, in this case.)

Well, last night something terrible happened.  The Prime Directive was violated.  In the beginning of our marriage the Prime Directive was torn asunder on a nightly basis.  But that has largely been solved by the purchase of a King Sized bed.

Last night, not even the King Sized bed could save us.  I had just lain down for a long winter's nap, and was slowly drifting off into dream land when Robyn reached over and started feeling my face.  Her hand was moving all over my face, feeling my eye sockets, my nose, my mouth.  It, of course, jerked me out of the blissful dream world I had entered.  Despite being jarred back into this world I asked what I felt was a very logical question, "Why are you feeling my face?"

As if in response to my question, her hand latched onto my nose.  She made no sounds, seemingly the nose grab was answer enough.  It was as if she was saying, "Don't worry about it, I found what I was looking for." She may have found what she needed, but what I needed was not to have her clutching my nose.  The prime directive was violated, and the very existence of my nose was in jeopardy.  Again, I asked a very logical question, "What are you doing?"  Although the question was very logical, it's possible my voice contained a bit more energy than the first time.

Apparently the raised voice jolted her from her nose wielding dream.  She let go and rolled over.  I thought the battle was over.  I thought the prime directive was safe.  Apparently I was wrong.

I began drifting back to sleep, the sandman was ferrying me across a river into dreamland.  Again, I was jolted from that world.  Robyn grabbed my hand and pulled it to her.  She scooted herself closer and hugged my hand a little bit.  I gently pulled my hand away but then both her arms reached out and just plopped on top of me.  I actually tried to sleep that way for a little while.  It didn't take me long to realize that this flagrant violation of the prime directive was going to keep me awake all night.  Then I realized the problem.  I was clearly out of my portion of the bed.  I had left my one third and wandered into her two thirds.  I apologized for violating her territory and curled into a cute little ball on my edge of the bed.

The prime directive had been made safe.  I was finally able to complete my journey into the dream world, where I'm a Viking.