Today’s question is this, can you love someone who eats crumbly cookies and leaves the pokey remains on your side of the sheets? This question should be considered whilst keeping in mind, that since I have been prone to hot flashes I sleep in the nude, and when I turn over, little pieces of chocolate oatmeal parts scratch my skin that cause me to wake up throughout the night.
I am really not that fussy. I am the opposite of the princess and the pea. I have had two children, a snoring husband, a dog and a frisky cat in bed with me, while mice gnaw on the orange ear plugs on the floor beneath us- and have managed to sleep quite well, if not with a bit of a kink in my neck.
My husband had a friend pull a prank on his fishing boat, where he put a boot under his foam mattress. He slept on it for days, before the prankster couldn’t take it anymore. “Look! A boot!” he yelled at my husband, as he plucked it from under him,”why can’t you feel this?” But he knows that I am not as tough as him.
Last night after rolling around uncomfortably all night, I thought, this is the last straw. It was time to divorce my loving husband after twenty years. I will also add, that this eating in bed is not a one time occurrence.
Sometimes salt and vinegar potato chips are involved.
Today, I have stripped the sheets and am listening to them churning in the washing machine as I type this out. I am trying to draw a line, but unfortunately my family knows that I am quite forgiving, so no matter how much I threaten, they know eventually I’ll come around. But this time, I feel like proving them wrong. I can pack up a few things and head on out to the Sheraton Hotel. But who will really suffer in the end?
My husband? Who can then eat a spaghetti dinner with bread sticks on the side followed by a drippy chocolate sundae in bed every night if he so desires, whilst watching home renovation shows? Or me naked and alone in clean fresh hotel room sheets staring owlishly into the dark night? Hmmn.
Well these questions have answered themselves. So tonight, I am going to put on our clean bamboo fibre sheets, jump into bed, put my cold feet on my husbands calves, and giggle as he says loudly,” BRRRRR!”… and I will say, “pass the chips darling.”
Because I suppose, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.