Thursday, December 30th, 2010

I had almost as much trouble getting into bed last night as I usually do getting into the center seat of a commercial airliner. My Darling B turned in early because she’d been sick for the past few days and has been doing her darndest to get as much sleep as she can. She stayed home from work on Tuesday and just slept and slept. “Sometimes you just need to sleep for fourteen hours.” Boy, don’t I know that feeling.

But I wasn’t sick and couldn’t turn in that early, particularly not while I was trying to finish off the last two hundred pages of the biography I’ve been plugging away at for two and a half weeks. I was down to the last three chapters of Colonel Roosevelt and couldn’t put it down, so I stayed up well past the time that B turned out the lights, curled up and started sawing lumber.

By the time I showed up to get into bed, there was no bed to get into. I could get onto bed just fine, there was lots of wide-open space available on my side of the mattress, but the scrap of covers that was left over for me after B wrapped herself up in quilts wasn’t enough for me to blow my nose into. (Insert obvious joke here about how many square yards of cotton I’d need to blow my big nose into.)

What made it worse was, the little bit of covered bed that was left for me to scooch into was half-claimed by a cat. Was he ever surprised when I showed up. His ass got evicted so quickly that he was just about launched into orbit when I sidle up to him, grabbed the edge of the quilt and rolled over to snap the covers taut. I managed to claim a bit more of the covers for my own as the night went on, but mostly I stayed warm by staying as close to B as I could without disturbing her and thus risking getting a somnolent elbow in face.

Beddy-bye | 7:35 pm CST
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