Insert Uncomfortable Silence

I found out that one of the people that Gllen works with is from London. I got all excited and curious about the idea of him conversing with someone from a different country... I mean, this is the guy who turns on the subtitles to watch movies where the actors are speaking with the standard midwestern accent.

"So, is this person actually British?" I asked him, grinning at him. He tells me yes. "Do they say things like 'bloody' and 'cheers'?"

"They say 'cheers'" he affirmed, and then buried his face in his hands and let out an embarrassed laugh. "I accidentally said it back to him last time."

I practically screamed with delight. "WHAT? What happened? What did you say?"

Apparently, the fellow ended their conversation with the traditional "Cheers!" and Gllen automatically said it back to him. Then paused with uncomfortable silence and added, "Bye."

Upon further probing, I also discovered that normally when he talks to this person, they farewell with "Cheers!" and Gllen usually doesn't know what to say, so after an uncomfortable pause says, "Okay." (more silence) "Bye."

I delight in envisioning these exchanges.

Fond Farewells

I always say goodbye to Gllen before leaving for work. I was particularly bemused last week, when I stood at the edge of the bed and told him I was leaving. He blearily opened his eyes and looked at me for a moment before muttering, "Happy barbecue trails...." and then closed his eyes again.

I opened my mouth and was only able to sputter, "What?"

He peeked open one eye and repeated dreamily, "Barbecue...." and promptly went back to sleep.

Disoriented

As I was getting ready to leave the house this morning and gathering my things from my bedside table, I glanced up to see Gllen staring straight at me. It was kind of unnerving - like being looked at by a corpse laying in a coffin. Our eyes locked and I stood transfixed, unable to break away from his cold stare.

His lips moved and he croaked out, "Where are you going?"

"To work" I replied. His brow furrowed and he continued to stare. "It's Monday" I added. His eyes narrowed and he gave me a look of calculating doubt.

"It's Sunday" he told me. Now I can see how he would be mistaken - he had stayed up all Saturday night and did not go to bed until 6:30am on Sunday morning, and then spent the rest of the day either sleeping or nursing his hangover. I recounted the events of each day of the weekend to prove to him that it was indeed, Monday.

He sighed. "I missed a day." He then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.