I rarely have occasion to say "Here's another nice mess you've gotten me into", Stanley. But Wednesday morning was different.

You know, we're real adult around our house. We definitely do NOT do things like speak in a weird language to each other. We definitely do not regularly refer to the neighbor's pet as "Roof Dog" and try to take clandestine pictures of it. And we definitely do not attempt WWF wresting moves on our bed in the morning before work.

Alright, we do all those things and you know it.

Another really adult thing we do? Wait for THE most inopportune moments to tell each other REALLY important stuff that affects our lives. Burdy, for instance, likes to set up plans in the space of a few seconds between my kissing him goodbye and walking out the door in the morning for work. It usually sounds like this:

"K.Bye!Oh,andJillandGabrielinvitedusoverfordinneronThursday,shouldIsayyes?Itooktheboatmotortotherepairshopandit'sgoingtocostlikefiftydollarstofix,butIfgurethatthat'sbetterthanmetryingtofixitandscrewingitup,right? Oh,andyoucanjusthavemybluetooth,sodon'tgoandbuyone.IfoundmineandIneveruseitanymore,plusIhavemywiredsetsoyoucanjusthavetheoldone. Isthereanythingforlunchinthefridge?ShouldIbuythoseplaneticketstogobacktoJerseyinAugust?Whattimeareyoucominghome?ImightstaylateatAikidotonight! Bye!"

And I have a very bad habit of trying to tell him every last thing I've thought of in the past 24 hours in the few moments in takes him to fall asleep at night.

Me: Have you fixed the boat motor yet?

Burdy: Mmmmfff.

Me: I'm thinking about getting a new Bluetooth. I hate the wired thingee I use.

Burdy: Mmmmff.

Me: Shoot. We still have to get those plane tickets, don't we?

Burdy: ...Zzzzzzz....

The (obvious) problem with both of these scenarios is that both of us is stumbling (or lying around, as it were) in alpha wave mode when the other is trying to talk to the other... and well, we wind up forgetting a lot of what the other one is saying. I mean you would think after twelve years together, we would understand that the only real time we are awake and functioning at the same time is around lunch and that when I am trundling towards the bathroom with my shirt all twisted around my torso and my hair doing its best Don King impersonation and my eyes all slitty and crusted over , it is NOT the best time to tell me that we are scheduled to make an appearance at like 5 parties this weekend, so clear my calendar... but, Burdy doesn't recognize zombies when he sees them. (Mostly deaf, still-dreaming zombies who are groping the air for coffee mugs and sugar bowls.) And I, apparently, can't appreciate that "lights out" does not mean "divulge the contents of your psyche".

Anywho, Wednesday morning, I actually got up early (SERIOUSLY. How do you people with the jobs do it?) and I made my way down to the chiropractor (to learn I have minor scoliosis in my upper back! Huzzah!) and then home again. I was wide awake by the time I got home. And so was Burdy. And so we actually talked like real adults. About weekend plans and where we were going to be at dinner time.

And then he decided it would be fun to test out the bed with wrestling moves.

So, we got this king sized bed from the parents of Giggles and Little Man. We've always known we've wanted a king sized bed. It's like the ONE luxury item we have pined for. The only item of excess we felt we deserved. Because we are really frugal and don't spend money on things like cars and clothes and jewelry. And because Burdy kicks and punches in his sleep.

Anywho, we got this awesome, marshmallowy, huge king-sized mattress. Burdy's kicks now happen in another zip code and I can't feel a thing. It's a perfect mattress. Perfect for, for example, launching yourself from the corner and body-slamming a pillow.

Now, our old mattress, it was a platform bed. Very low to the ground. The new bed? She's practically at chest height for me. So maybe Burdy hadn't done the calculations involved. Big bed, regular sized ceilings, overhead lamp complete with seventies style shade (probably full of dead bugs), plus six foot tall man launching three feet into the air, arcing DIRECTLY underneath the lamp....

equals one surprised man clam-shelled on his back in the bed, his hair and pajamas full of microscopic pieces of glass, his eyes wide open in shock, his hands open in front of him, his mouth frozen in the shape of the words OOOOOOOOOOH, FUUUUUUUUUUUDGE.

And one woman laughing hysterically going to fetch the dustpan.


Anonymous July 16th, 2010 15:45

Oh snap! Don’t let me forget to tell you about the time T. and I did the same thing, except we were maybe 21 years old, THE only people at this lodge in the back woods of Ontario and we were completely, well, inebriated. Fun times! :) -A.