MATTRESS UPDATE:
Last night I woke up around two as I unconsciously realized that I had full and unrestricted access to the bottom third of the bed. The hairy leg dam that usually blocks my path to the footboard was missing. Eroded, as it were, or gnawed to twigs by beavers. Or just... in the other room. I found Randy curled up in Chelsea's vacant bed down the hall. Apparently he'd been having dreams all night about sinking through the new mattress and onto the floor and he couldn't handle it anymore. I wasn't sure what to tell him. That's what happens when you stop sleeping on particle board? Sometimes when you get off a boat you still feel the movement of the waves; maybe when you introduce your body to something softer than the kitchen table after fifteen years there's a "comfort overload" adjustment period? I don't know. I'm not all that eager to talk him through it, frankly-- last night was the first time in seven years of sleeping together that I've extended my legs past a fifty-seven degree angle. I mean, while I was
asleep.
Mia shares my pain, but instead of a poison gecko tree frog, her nighttime nemesis is a giant furnace-eating squid.
And cats. But I think that goes without saying.
