Monday, March 26, 2012
Sharing a bed with Boyfriend is like sharing a bed with SATAN
Anyway, I slept over. We slept in the guest bedroom. It has a queen size bed, so you'd think me, 5'4", 115 lbs and him, 6'1" and 145 lbs, would fit comfortably, right?
It was extremely uncomfortable in every way. I had forgotten to bring my pillow, which is a major factor in my discomfort. I am a creature of extreme habit and the smallest thing can really irritate me. So, when you put me in a different bed, with a shitty pillow and the most fidgety mother fucker this side of the meth lab, you've got a recipe for disaster.
I got into bed, expecting Boyfriend to come in within the hour. When that didn't happen, I began to get very irritated with the fan. I turned it on because Boyfriend can't sleep without a fan on. Considerate, right? But, in those two hours before he came in, that fan was my mortal enemy. I wanted nothing more than to throw it out the window. The constant whirrrrrrrring of the fan grinded on every nerve I had.
Around 4 am, I finally fell into a deep enough sleep to dream. I had weirdo dreams. And I woke up constantly.
Morning rolled around and I got up, peed, ate, showered. While I was showering, Boyfriend hops in, says the water is too hot, and threatens that, if I don't turn it down, he'll fart on me.
Isn't love grand?