(I cannot begin to thank you all for the comments, suggestions and support on yesterday’s
whine blog. But to try to thank you, I’m now going to write a post that will make you all terribly uncomfortable. You’ve been warned. You’re welcome)
So our bed is broken.
It only took 2 months of marriage, but we broke the bed.
I won’t say specifically how because your own daydreams of this may end up far more interesting than the truth, and I kind of want you to think I’m really creative in (the broken) bed. And because in not telling you, I totally just forced a really great image into your head and I find that wildly amusing. Yep, you’re welcome.
Anyways, the problem is that now our bed sounds like there’s a goose under it. When you sit down, it honks. When you roll over, it honks. When you reach for the remote, it honks.
So you can imagine when you do “other” things on the bed. It practically announces our activities to the entire zip code.
“Hello!” it says. “These two (married!) people are getting their “grove” on. If you know what I mean. Honk honk honk honkhonkhonkhonk.”
Truly, it sounds like a goose and in case you wondered, sex geese are not quiet creatures.
Aside from the hilarity of the honking during the non-mentionable activities, the sex goose is a problem at other times. Like, for instance, on Saturday and Sunday mornings where I almost always get up before Slappy. Trying to get out of bed without the sex goose waking him up involves trying to slowly ease myself off the bed until I all but fall out onto the floor.
This plan never works and usually, I end up rousing Slappy enough that he rolls over and tries to cuddle me, which is sweet, except now have to navigate out of a cuddle and the sex goose to get out of bed without waking him up.
(I’m a freaking saint in the mornings, by the way. I don’t want to talk to you or recognize the fact that you exist in the universe, but I respect the right to sleep in on weekends.)
Thankfully we have a protection plan for the bed so that we can get the sex goose removed, er, replaced, but I kind of wonder what life will be like without it. We’ve had 6 months of honking now (heh, what a great euphemism), I’m almost afraid I won’t be able to deal with the quiet. Like it’ll take something out of the romantic atmosphere without the soft-porn noises of the sex goose.
Or maybe I’m just sad because I’ll have one less thing to blog about that will make you want to stick a fork in your ear and jiggle your brains, just to get out the mental image of how our bed came to have a sex goose in it in the first place.
Tough to say.