| Humor Fiction posted January 12, 2023 |
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a change in sleeping accomodations
A fuller bed
by Mary Vigasin
Recently I discovered my parents had to be contortionists. They had to be, or else they walked around bleary-eyed and exhausted.
Our subzero weather led to this discovery. Our 2nd-floor master bedroom has an inadequate duct system, so sleeping there is like sleeping in a freezer when the temperature reaches below the single digits.
Unlike our queen-size bed upstairs, the spare bedroom downstairs has a full-size bed.
Trying to sleep in this smaller bed led us to go through different stages:
Denial: Both said we were comfortable. We were both lying.
Anger: We both accused the other of:
Hogging the bed.
Taking all the covers.
And accidentally
hitting each other.
Depression: Not us, the bed. It is a 30-year-old bed. The left side of the bed sags badly. So as not to fall off the bed; you must dig your nails into the mattress to keep from rolling off. Of course, as you roll over, so does your partner, who often collides with you like a bumper car ride.
Bargaining: How about getting a new bed?
Acceptance: We will not be getting much sleep tonight!
AN EVEN FULLER BED.
I nap in the afternoon on this bed, and the cat is spooning or with his head on the pillow next to me.
The cat considers both the bed and me his territory.
My husband calls him my guard cat because the cat sticks by my side and stares down my husband when he enters the room.
So when we got into the bed, the cat sitting between us refused to budge.
I shove the cat out of bed; however, he is determined to claim his spot. He jumps back into the bed four times.
Four times, I let out a blood-curdling scream as his nails found my leg as he jumps off the bed.
The fifth time I get up, the cat follows me, and I lock him out of the room.
This plan did not work as we were subject to 20 minutes or more of crying (the cat, not us) and scratching at the door. (Again, the cat, not us.)
I let the cat back in, and he made a beeline to the bed again. He got up, sat on my hip, and stared at my husband.
Hubby gets up to go the bathroom, and on his return. I let him know.
"The cat threw up on your side of the bed!"
He grabs a blanket and heads upstairs to the freezing bedroom.
I clean the bed with the cat cuddling up next to me and say: "Good night, dear."
Recently I discovered my parents had to be contortionists. They had to be, or else they walked around bleary-eyed and exhausted.
Our subzero weather led to this discovery. Our 2nd-floor master bedroom has an inadequate duct system, so sleeping there is like sleeping in a freezer when the temperature reaches below the single digits.
Unlike our queen-size bed upstairs, the spare bedroom downstairs has a full-size bed.
Trying to sleep in this smaller bed led us to go through different stages:
Denial: Both said we were comfortable. We were both lying.
Anger: We both accused the other of:
Hogging the bed.
Taking all the covers.
And accidentally
hitting each other.
Depression: Not us, the bed. It is a 30-year-old bed. The left side of the bed sags badly. So as not to fall off the bed; you must dig your nails into the mattress to keep from rolling off. Of course, as you roll over, so does your partner, who often collides with you like a bumper car ride.
Bargaining: How about getting a new bed?
Acceptance: We will not be getting much sleep tonight!
AN EVEN FULLER BED.
I nap in the afternoon on this bed, and the cat is spooning or with his head on the pillow next to me.
The cat considers both the bed and me his territory.
My husband calls him my guard cat because the cat sticks by my side and stares down my husband when he enters the room.
So when we got into the bed, the cat sitting between us refused to budge.
I shove the cat out of bed; however, he is determined to claim his spot. He jumps back into the bed four times.
Four times, I let out a blood-curdling scream as his nails found my leg as he jumps off the bed.
The fifth time I get up, the cat follows me, and I lock him out of the room.
This plan did not work as we were subject to 20 minutes or more of crying (the cat, not us) and scratching at the door. (Again, the cat, not us.)
I let the cat back in, and he made a beeline to the bed again. He got up, sat on my hip, and stared at my husband.
Hubby gets up to go the bathroom, and on his return. I let him know.
"The cat threw up on your side of the bed!"
He grabs a blanket and heads upstairs to the freezing bedroom.
I clean the bed with the cat cuddling up next to me and say: "Good night, dear."
Our subzero weather led to this discovery. Our 2nd-floor master bedroom has an inadequate duct system, so sleeping there is like sleeping in a freezer when the temperature reaches below the single digits.
Unlike our queen-size bed upstairs, the spare bedroom downstairs has a full-size bed.
Trying to sleep in this smaller bed led us to go through different stages:
Denial: Both said we were comfortable. We were both lying.
Anger: We both accused the other of:
Hogging the bed.
Taking all the covers.
And accidentally
hitting each other.
Depression: Not us, the bed. It is a 30-year-old bed. The left side of the bed sags badly. So as not to fall off the bed; you must dig your nails into the mattress to keep from rolling off. Of course, as you roll over, so does your partner, who often collides with you like a bumper car ride.
Bargaining: How about getting a new bed?
Acceptance: We will not be getting much sleep tonight!
AN EVEN FULLER BED.
I nap in the afternoon on this bed, and the cat is spooning or with his head on the pillow next to me.
The cat considers both the bed and me his territory.
My husband calls him my guard cat because the cat sticks by my side and stares down my husband when he enters the room.
So when we got into the bed, the cat sitting between us refused to budge.
I shove the cat out of bed; however, he is determined to claim his spot. He jumps back into the bed four times.
Four times, I let out a blood-curdling scream as his nails found my leg as he jumps off the bed.
The fifth time I get up, the cat follows me, and I lock him out of the room.
This plan did not work as we were subject to 20 minutes or more of crying (the cat, not us) and scratching at the door. (Again, the cat, not us.)
I let the cat back in, and he made a beeline to the bed again. He got up, sat on my hip, and stared at my husband.
Hubby gets up to go the bathroom, and on his return. I let him know.
"The cat threw up on your side of the bed!"
He grabs a blanket and heads upstairs to the freezing bedroom.
I clean the bed with the cat cuddling up next to me and say: "Good night, dear."
 Recognized |
#66 January 2023 |
I put this as fiction as part of it is an exaggeration, and other parts are untrue; however, some of the story is correct. All I can say is we are getting a new bed next week.
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