It is late, and I am exhausted.
I cannot wait to snuggle under the covers and fall asleep. The book I was going to read can wait for another time. I just want to fall asleep.
I reach to turn on my bedside lamp as I start undressing.
Click, click, click . . . click . . . click.
The light does not turn on. I turn to Mark, “I need replacement light bulbs for this lamp.”
He stares at me and his stare is not the stare of a man who is going to go get me replacement light bulbs.
He continues undressing and says, “You don’t need a lamp tonight. I’ll get you light bulbs in the morning. That lamp takes those weird little light bulbs. Maybe we have some in the garage. Not sure.”
I stare at him, “I need this lamp to work, babe.”
“Why? You just said you are exhausted. Go to sleep.”
“OK, if I had just gotten into bed without realizing the lamp no longer works? That would be fine. But now that I know the lamp does not work? That is all I am going to be able to think about. I will be lying in bed and I will be all . . . What if I need light? What if I need light? What if I need light? What if I need light? What if I . . .”
Mark interrupts me, “That’s ridiculous. Just go to sleep.”
“OK, but babe?”
“Yeah?”
“What if I need light?”
He sighs, “Maybe it’s just unplugged. Did you check that?”
“What am I, an idiot? Anyway, how’s it going to get unplugged? It’s plugged into the wall socket behind the headboard and there is no way to reach that outlet. How could it be . . .”
As I speak, I am pulling on the cord, which is suspiciously cooperative, and I finish my sentence as I stare at the end of the cord, “ . . . unplugged?”
Crap.
People? I am not going to bore you with details of our bed’s design, but the only reasonable way to plug something in behind this bed? Is to move the bed. Mark is not inclined to help me do this, as the bed is pretty much immovable unless disassembled.
Did I mention it is 1:30 am?
I eye the space below the bed . . . it’s a smallish space, but I am pretty sure I will fit. I will just slither underneath the bed, plug in the lamp, and then slither back out. I am all geniusy!
I lie on the floor, lamp plug in hand, and I begin to move snakelike into the space beneath the bed.
The space is smaller than I thought. My head fits, but only if I turn it sideways. The frame of the bed scrapes painfully across my shoulder blades. I realize too late that I should have extended my arms out in front of me before starting the slither. Adjustments are difficult.
Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.
I extend my arm, but I cannot reach the outlet.
I try to slither farther under the bed, but my ass? Apparently exceeds under-the-bed limits. I am just a teeny bit ass-wedged under the frame of the bed.
OK, if I were one of those miners stuck in a tunnel? Or a spelunker? I could probably bring myself to do the damage that will result from forcing myself into this too-small space. But I am not a miner or a spelunker. I am a half-dressed woman with her boobs smashed against the carpet in painful fashion.
Hmmm.
You know what?
I bet if I were completely naked, I would so fit! Yes! These jeans are all that is keeping me from squeezing sylphlike into the space beneath my bed to plug in this bedside lamp.
Naked. Yes, that’s the way to go.
I painfully slither backward and out from under the bed.
Slithering backward past the bed frame is ouchy.
As I work myself to freedom, I hear Mark’s voice, “In a different moment in which you weren’t completely insane? This shimmying of yours would be very sexy.”
I would protest, but I am still shimmying and slithering backward.
Ow.
Mark is all reasonable, “You don’t need the lamp, Kris.”
I sit up and rub my shoulders, “I so do. Don’t you see? I didn’t need the lamp, but now that I know I don’t have the lamp? I so need the lamp. I so do.”
I pull off my pants and stand there naked for a moment, contemplative.
This is so going to work. No way am I going to be naked and stuck under the bed. No way will Mark have to call 911 at 1:45 in the morning. No way will every emergency vehicle in Lake Oswego pull into our sleeping darkened neighborhood with sirens blaring and lights flashing. No way will paramedics and other emergency personnel have to lift my bed off of my ass-wedged naked self. No way will their hysterical mocking laughter ring in my ears until the day I die.
No way that will happen.
I take a moment to imagine this scenario that could so not happen.
People? That could so fucking happen.
I stand next to the bed in despair, “Mark, I am not going to be able to fall asleep. I need this lamp plugged in. I need this lamp to work.”
Mark climbs into bed and pulls the covers up, “So plug it into the wall behind you.”
What?
There’s an outlet on the wall behind me?
I turn to look.
There so fucking is!
Yay!
I plug it in.
Turn on the light.
Climb into bed.
Turn out the light.
And go to sleep.
The next morning?
Measured the space, so that if I am ever naked spelunking?
I will know my limits.
7.5 inches.
No smaller than that.
Snort!
Glad you found the outlet on the other side of the room but a tiny evil part of me wishes you’d gotten stuck. That story? Would have been hilarious!
Hmmm . . . the implication is that this story right here?
Is not hilarious.
I am all offended!
Pistols at dawn, young lady!
Oh man, I’ve just been getting in nothing but trouble with my comments lately.
Of course this story was hilarious! Duh.
But you having to call in the firemen to unwedge your naked self from under the bed? You have to admit that would have been quite hilarious. For all the rest of us, that is.
Yes, well . . .
There are limits to what I am willing to do to entertain you people.
Snort!
I dunno, there are more embarrassing things for which to be infamous than naked spelunking under one’s own bed.
I can’t think of any right now, though.
Also? Hiya, babe!
Oh my goodness.
Adrienne?
Is that really you?
How I have missed you, babe.
Hi!
even being in the top 3 is pretty amazing!
now to actually read the post…
You are way silly!
And #3!
So been there. My bed is on wheels now. Which is not altogether convenient at rare times.
A bed on wheels is a hospital bed.
The end.
Also?
In an earthquake, a bed on wheels rolls out into the street into oncoming traffic.
Yes, in an earthquake, a bed on wheels will kill you.
Yes.
Mark didn’t mention the other outlet because duh!
He was loving your shimmying…
And perhaps?
Giggling to himself a little.
Like I am…
Mark does seem to get much amusement out of my stupidity.
He giggles a lot.
Sigh.
Does Lake Oswego have one of those awesome local newspapers with a police blotter?
“Paramedics and other emergency personnel called in to lift a bed off of naked ass-wedged spelunker”
would look GREAT above “resident reported suspicious noise on Maple St.”
ha ha ha! I was thinking the SAME THING!
People . . . I have posted about the Lake Oswego Police Blotter before.
It would be horrifying.
Check it out . . . http://www.prettyalltrue.com/2010/05/petty-crimes/
ACK!
I had completely forgotten about that post!
It would, indeed, be horrifying.
In a wonderfully, ridiculously funny sort of way.
Not if you were the woman being described . . .
Rescue was required when a woman desirous of bedtime plugging had to be pulled from tight spot.
SNORT!
Naked slithering? sounds like every man’s fantasy.
As far as NEEDING something simply because it is unattainable? Sounds like my life.
I am short. If I stand really tall I am just over 5′ but not quite 5’1″ no matter how tall I stand. My H likes to put things away where I cannot reach them and his reasoning is, “Just ask me and I’ll get it for you.”
Absolutely NO REGARD WHATSOEVER for any needs I might have when he is NOT there.
Just to be clear?
When Mark was all appreciative?
I was still wearing pants.
As for the absolute desire to have what I have been told I cannot have?
Let’s just say it is a good thing I have never needed to go on a serious diet.
I would eat everything.
Snort!
I love how some men, no matter what you do, are envisioning that same action, only naked. My H would have appreciated the wriggling wearing pants or not also.
As far as dieting? I only try less because just like you. . . that desire to have what I cannot? Is insatiable.
Like I told my H only a few weeks into our relationship, “Don’t EVER tell me I can’t do or have something. Speak to me reasonably about your wishes and most of the time I will respect them. Tell me I can’t? and I will. “
Men are silly and fabulous that way . . . and also way easy to talk into sex.
Yay!
Ahem.
As for your discussion with your husband?
Yes, exactly. I have said much the same thing to Mark. Happy to decide not to do something, but if I am told NOT to do it?
Oh, I am so going to do it.
Yes I am.
It’s important to know your limits. But 7.5 inches? That’s just intimidating.
Plus –
Why are you awake at 1:45?
You need more sleep.
It’s the law in the land of the sylphlike.
I am smallish and stubborn and willing to shove myself into spaces that would make a more reasonable person balk.
I need that fucking lamp to work.
What?
And I do not even know how we ended up awake until 1:45.
Mark is never up that late.
Although, honestly?
I am often awake at 1:45.
And then I need light.
I so do.
OMG why did it take so long for Mark to mention the outlet behind you? Let’s make this his fault! I feel all experty at blaming others tonight.
I just went through your archives with my son Ben (age 10) and read him some of your posts. He wants to adopt the smaller stupid dog and possibly marry Kallan someday after helping her with the Tick TV Show.(but I am not to put this on here or he will be extremely angry with me)
Interesting idea. I showed him her picture from your Christmas letter. He wants you to tell her she is pretty.
Also? He wants to send her his picture and start his own blog so people (and Kallan) can see he is funny.
He also wants to know if you ever snort milk out your nose!
I fear I have created a monster. Dear God help me.
Amy -
I love your son!
The girls now occasionally tell me that I am not allowed to blog certain things that they do or say. Damn my intelligent children. They are on to me.
Tell Ben that Kallan is more than a handful, and I do not expect that situation to change by the time she is ready to get married. Is he truly prepared for the challenge? Tell him to drink lots of milk and grow up big and strong.
As for me?
I am not a big fan of milk, but I have, on occasion . . .
Snorted various liquids out of my nose.
Maj hates when that happens.
I am so embarrassing.
Hahaha…you kill me. It’s kinda like that scene in The Sweetest Thing when the EMT’s come because they were having sex and…oh never mind. Ah, the mind of an OCD person.
When my husband wants me to get up and do something like turn on the fan, he just says “Lynn, don’t you need to go to the bathroom?” and even though I don’t, I have to now because then I’m all paranoid that maybe I do…so I just go to the bathroom and also do what he asked. Yup, a little OCD here too!
Hee hee!
If anyone ever asks me if I have to go to the bathroom?
I immediately go to the bathroom.
Because otherwise, I am all, “Why did this person just ask me if I have to go to the bathroom? Is there going to be a long stretch of time before the next bathroom is available? Does this person know something I don’t know? It’s not like I couldn’t go to the bathroom. Maybe I should use the bathroom. OK, now I so need to use the bathroom.”
Yeah, like that.
I was totally expecting you to get stuck. :P
Not all of my true stories have an unexpected ending.
Sigh.
And my ass is the biggest part of me.
Not my head, as others have suggested.
Sassy people.
I might at some time have felt the need to fix, find, clean, organize, etc something right in the NOW moment. My reasoning though is if I don’t fix, find, blah blah, I will totally forget. Until I need it.
Which is annoying when it could have been done already.
Happy sighs at being understood.
Not that I don’t have powerful skills of denial, mind you.
But once I focus on something?
It must be addressed or there is not moving on.
Mark loves when this happens at 1:30 am.
Loves.
This makes me think of GiggleFish and SnuffleBerries. I’m not sure why.
OK, Ben?
I Googled that and came away with nothing.
Gigglefish and Snuffleberries?
What the hell?
What can I say? sometimes I have odd thoughts :)
You?
Are quirkily fabulous.
You wanted to make money, right?
What better way than to get stuck under your bed?
Hee hee!
And Mark so should have said something about the other outlet before hand.
That is NOT how I want to make money.
NOT.
Is there a way to make money from getting stuck in my bed?
Because I am so willing to do that.
Snort!
Plus also?
Mark claims now that he didn’t remember about that other outlet until just that moment.
I think he lies.
Pretty sure.
More to the point, how come you didn’t know about that outlet? You’ve been living there a year now, surely you should know where all the outlets are?
Thats the FIRST thing I do when I go to a new place. The second thing I do is figure out which fuse/breaker each outlet is attached to.
Ahem.
I did know about that outlet.
But it is not the correct outlet into which one should be plugging this lamp.
And so it did not occur to me.
And yes . . . that makes perfect sense.
Got Handcuffs?
Or silken scarves?
Or a couple of Mark’s ties?
That a nice way to get stuck in bed!
See?
You are all imaginative and geniusy!
My plan was just to fail to get out of the bed in the morning.
And then nap all day.
If there was just some way for that plan to be a moneymaker.
Sigh.
my ass? it is SO much bigger than 7.5 inches. not that i measured, but i’m sure it is……..
…….and now, because i’m insane, i just pulled the ruler out of my drawer to try to measure my own ass. 8″? 10″?? i am going to need you to clarify your measuring methods in order for me to see if perhaps my ass could fit under your bed or if it is, in fact, bigger than yours as i suspect it to be. because it’s imperative that i know if my ass can fit under your bed.
ha!
Oh my god!
I did not measure my ass, silly one. I measured the distance from the floor to the bed frame.
7.5 inches.
Asses are squishy by nature.
My ass in its unsquished form?
More than 7.5 inches.
SNORT!
i’m such a moron! of COURSE you measured the bed…not your ass. i was wondering how you got the precise measure of 7.5 inches…”how’d she see the 0.5”??” i was wondering! maybe i need to go hide under MY bed now.
LOL….yeah, so…..off to put my equally squishy ass to bed, because clearly i am losing it!
OK, you have made me giggle hysterically as I sit on my squishy ass.
Seriously . . . cannot stop giggling.
Night, you.
Hee hee!