When the husbeast sleeps ...

Three's work schedule has totally fucked him up. I'm sure that once he's been working third shift for a while, he'll be used to it, but damn.
First of all, his job has kind of dicked him around a bit for the last two months. At first, he was on third shift. Then they moved him to second shift. A few weeks later, he was put on a weird in between shift, and then the next week, he was told he was back on third again. Which, you know, what the hell?

Second, he has diabetes. It's Type II, so he's not insulin dependent, but all of this constant change makes him eat at different times. For those of you who know people with diabetes, you understand that this is a very bad thing. Last week, his body just said, "Enough, fucker. I'm done." He thankfully had that weekend off, and he spent the whole time sleeping.
I feel bad for the poor boy. He gets ... slow when he is sleepy. He calls it his "lizard brain." Normally, he's this ubergenius who does calculus in his head for fun and watches Ted Talks (a show where really smart people ask ridiculously wealthy people for grants to do insane things like mine an asteroid that's been dragged back to Earth instead of asking governments) for inspiration. But after no or not enough quality sleep? Yeah, he's a mess. He'll fall down for no reason, forget basic words, uses really bad non sequiturs. And his driving, while normally horrendous, gets even worse. Once, he drove into oncoming traffic and didn't even realize it, which is why, any time he is going to be getting behind the wheel, I make him wake up and move around for about 30 - 45 minutes before hopping in the car.
Right now, I'm sitting the bed, trying to type extremely quietly (though not having much luck), and he's snuggled up under our comforter. It's 7:30P as I'm writing this and he has to get up in about an hour; I really, really don't want to wake him up. Our apartment complex, after getting sick of the shitty job the roofing company they hired to fix their job for the fourth or fifth time, has contracted a new company that just, about thirty minutes ago, finished their work for today. And they've been at it since eight this morning. Which means the pitiful husbeast beside me probably has only gotten a few hours of sleep today.
He just turned to me and said, "Sweetie, I'm sorry I'm not being a better husband right now. I'm just ... so ..."
Aaaand like that, he's out like a light again.
Honestly, it doesn't bother me. I can entertain myself quite well and have always been able to do so. My imagination is a pretty awesome place to be most of the time. It's not that I don't miss him. I totally do. I don't like sleeping alone while he's at work. As much as I love Zola, she's just not the same.

Although she does have one of the cutest faces when she's sleeping. :D

But it's not like our marriage is being hurt by this. We get the afternoons and weekends (usually) to hang out, just like with a 9 - 5 job. On days like this, I can't really get what I need to get done around the house accomplished because I don't want to keep him up. (He even offers to go sleep on the floor in the other room so I can do housework and shit, but I'm not about to let him do that when we have a perfectly acceptable bed here.) But hell, I can get that done when he leaves. I have no problem keeping the asshole downstairs awake with my vacuuming; she's woken me from a deep sleep with drunken slurring at 3A before, so my sympathy for her is minimum, at best. 

I just don't want him worried about us, you know? I mean, he already is. But I don't want to exacerbate the situation by complaining. I don't really have any thing to complain about, actually: he has a good job that's steady and has plenty of room for advancement AND we spend time together. And I get my alone time, which I need more than anyone I know. I can blog, surf the internet, play with Zola, write, draw, watch bad Lifetime movies. 

Although, shit, it's close to eight now. I should probably wake up Sleeping Husbeast so he can get some food in him. Because sleepy and hungry Three? I'd rather wrestle a polar bear, thanks.