Monday, October 13, 2008

My bed is a very, very bad place

I love my bed. I’ve always loved every bed I’ve had because two of my favorite activities are sleeping and reading, and the bed is a wonderful place for both. However, this bed in particular is amazing. I’ve had it for years and I refused to get rid of it when it was pissed in (NOT me) and later when I moved from New York to Chicago. It’s kind of the best bed ever so I was willing to overlook a little urine and a hefty moving fee.

Lately, however, I’ve come to suspect that the bed is cursed. I’m not even really referring to sex, lest you think that in light of my last post. I mean, certainly, my bed is not the place of tender or thrilling lovefests at the moment, and is sometimes a little lonely, except when my dog is sleeping with me (which is about half the time). However, I would be okay if it was just me and my bed existing in peaceful, sleepy harmony. Not to say that the emptiness of the bed is not at all related to the curse, just that it’s the very least of it.

Last Wednesday night/Thursday morn, as I was getting ready for bed, my dog appeared to let me know we’d be roommates for the night. We have an open door policy on this, which goes as follows: “I will leave the door open as I get ready for bed. You, Molly, know the routine. When I turn off the lights in the apartment and go into my room, you are free to follow me, walk halfway across the room and stare at me with that look that says, ‘Bitch, I am sleepy as fuck. Put me on that bed posthaste.’”

So I put her on my bed and read a bit and turned out the light around 1:45. After about 5 minutes, she sat up and wouldn’t lie back down. When I eventually noticed that she was licking her lips a lot, I knew what was coming so I turned on the light and tried to grab her… right as she puked on my bed.

Ew. Puke on the bed. She proceeded to vomit twice more on the living room rug and I was up until about 3 doing laundry and cleaning up after her. With my quilt in the washer, I had to sleep under a blanket that smelled like her dirty butt because she drags it all over the living room and places her dirty butt on it. If you’re wondering about her, my sister took her to the vet and she is now a-ok.

So this had to be the worst thing to ever happen in my bed, right? Or at the very least, the worst thing involving me and a creature of some sort, right?


Last night, I came into my room and put my purse on the bed. I was about to leave the room to iron my dress when I saw a movement: THERE WAS A COCKROACH IN MY BED. My sheets were pulled back a bit and he was in my sheets. GROSS.

I was luckily able to catch him with a Kleenex and kill him within the Kleenex rather than squishing him into my bed. I refuse to wash bedding twice in 4 days.

I am pretty much not squeamish about bugs, but I checked that bed about 50 times before getting in. I really don’t care if there is a cockroach on the ground in the living room or bathroom. Honestly, it doesn’t bother me that much. But in my bed????? Oh, gross.

God I hope this is the end of the curse. If it is escalating, however, I foresee a Godfather moment in my near future.

1 comment:

Boulos said...

Dear LORD wife! Maybe it was the one roach from our UES apt, come to say "you should've killed me when you had the chance!"