We were going to watch a movie last night. This One. Nick began snoring early-on. I raised my head from its relaxed position on his shoulder to gaze at his closed eyes. "Hey, Nick? Why don't I stop this. We can watch it sometime when you're more awake?"

"No," came his firm reply.

It's that defensive, macho, "Shoot, you think I sleep? Man, I NEVER sleep! I don't NEED sleep!" Because, you know, sleeping is as potentially harmful to a manly-man's reputation as poofy pink slippers.

I waited another five minutes, until his breathing vibrated tellingly, before raising my head again, gingerly. He started in seeming wakefulness. "No, that was just a heavy breath!"

It's sick. I've heard it before. I just might be dating my father...like the psychiatrist wouldn't already have a field day with me on the subject of my infatuation with inanimate objects and the conversations with them I do conduct.

Nick could come to cost me a pretty penny.