As I sit down in the living room, my wife tells me she has been thinking about Denmark. Mistakenly, I ask her what she has been thinking about it. Apparently she has been reading about the Danish monarchy, and it seems that she wants to make sure she remembers it.

She speaks on and on about European history and monarchy and Danish national identity. She is using words that she has read in a book, and are clearly new even to her, so more than usual, I have no idea what she is talking about.

It goes on and on.

I concentrate on not yawning. Yawning would be rude, and what is a house without civility. I keep my jaw taut, and my lips in a tight line. But holding me head up becomes tricky. Not wanting to split my concentration in too many directions, I slouch down and rest my head on the back of the chair.

My eyelids start to grow heavy. I can't pay attention to this, though, as I am investing all of my attention into holding off the yawn. It won't hurt to rest them a bit. As long as I don't yawn.

"Are you sleeping?" My wife asks. These words I understand.

"Of course not." I reply indignantly.

I am going to heroic efforts to do her the courtesy of not yawning during her recitation, but then she calls me out on 'sleeping'.

Why is she even looking at me? It seems that the polite thing would be to address the tedious monologue slightly above me, and to one side.

I don't look at my students when I am lecturing. If they need to rest their eyes a bit so that they don't yawn, who am I to call them out on it. If they must think briefly of what they will have for lunch, then they need no suspicions cast on their attentiveness. When I am not facing the board, I address my words high up the back wall of the classroom.

It's just common courtesy.