After reading several blogs that portray marriage as nauseatingly idyllic and husbands as perfectly adorable and righteous beings, I have decided to set the record straight. The following is a factual story from my life. In "choose your own adventure" style, I have written two endings. One is the actual ending to my tale, while the other is a tweaked version in the style of these other blogs. See if you can tell which is which.
The other day I was laying in my bed attempting to read a classic novel on an iphone. This was proving somewhat difficult, and so I adjusted the substandard, oddly large and square pillow provided in our furnished apartment here in Germany (I forgot my Tempur-Pedic pillow of the gods at home; my mom sent it to me forever ago and I'm starting to fear it has been lost in transit. Sob). As I did so I found, to my horror, that there was a big squashed bug underneath said substandard pillow! Such an experience would be awful enough for the average person; I, however, have especial reason to panic.
When I was around twelve years of age, I found myself in a similar situation. I was laying in bed reading a book (this is one of my favorite pastimes). I noticed there were some short, bent-looking hairs on either side of my pillow. I gingerly lifted my pillow to find none other than an enormous flattened daddy long-leg spider! What I had perceived to be hairs were actually detached spider legs! Lots of screaming and hand-wringing ensued. For years to come, even after the pillowcase was banished and the sheets washed, I never moved my pillow to reveal the fateful spot, and never let my feet touch the corresponding area at the bottom of the sheet, just in case it had been put on the other way. Obsessive-compulsive disorderly behavior? Perhaps. Suffice it to say one day I got new sheets and felt safe again.
Ending One: I rushed to my fearless knight in shinning armor, who proceeded too hold me in his arms and quiet all my fears. He then attacked the offending insect with a tissue {he's so smart like that!}, and that night he went without a pillow and we fell asleep cuddling on his side of the bed {but not before reading scriptures and having personal AND family prayer because we're way spirchul}. Isn't he the BEST husband EVER?!?! We're SO in LOVE. The next morning I washed the sheets because, duh, that's women's work! Luv him!
Ending Two: Having grown up just a bit, there was no screaming or hand-wringing. There was, however, a sharp intake of breath and a rush to big, strong, husband man. He, having been asleep, was not thrilled by his awakening and did not see the dire nature of the situation. He promptly flicked the bug onto the ground and told me I was being ridiculous. I did not appreciate this reaction. I asked him would he at least trade pillows with me? This request was met with equal derision (at this very moment he is making the noise of "bugs crawling over your face at night" for my listening pleasure). Feeling slighted and as though my supposed lover did not care about my feelings, I proceeded to sulk for the rest of the day (immature? Yes. This is what happens when you get married at 21). At long last, he relented and traded pillows with me, but not without that "this is insane" attitude.
Ah, marital bliss. Can you tell which is the true story?
1 comment:
I remember many cries of "DADDY!" in the middle of the night . . . or day for that matter. But I do not remember this particular incident. I never knew about your fear of that specific set of sheets. But, I have heard the married story before, and I know which is the real ending. I bet most peeple will gues wrong.
And BTW, I checked on your pillow; try the post office again. The international post office has no record of it beyond it having returned to the Jena post office after not being delivered to your apartment.
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