Background:
me – one glass of red wine down the hatch
bryan – one bottle, minus one glass of red wine down the hatch
Set: on bed
me – working on new web page design
bryan – thwacking me in the leg repeatedly with a piece of his newly broken sunglasses
“This is the second time in a row we’ve been in this bed and I’ve wanted to strangle you.” I say.
“What?” says Bryan.
“Last night fighting over the stupid blankets. I’m sure you wanted to kill me too. It was ridiculous.”
“What are you talking about?” his innocence persists.
“Oh,” he says. “You mean when you kept yanking the blankets off of me so I yanked them back?”
I smile, close my eyes, and bow my head.
“Yes,” I say. “That is what I’m referring too.”
“Whaaaaa-uut..?” he persists. “Why are you making that face?”
Seriously? We have to go here?
We go there.
He really thinks that I’m maniacally hogging the blanket and wasn’t struggling to get enough to get warm, too. No. That could have ONLY been BRYAN’s reality. It could never have been that the blanket was all fucked up and turned around and that it was happening to BOTH of us, no- no. Only Bryan was shorted on the bedsheets last night, and inconvenienced with the curse of sleeplessness. MY mistake. I’m still trying to smile and find some amusement in the stupidity of the entire reenactment, but “whatevers” are tossed about and Bryan leaves the room.
Give me a fucking break.
Lesson #1= Red wine must be consumed in equal parts by both parties in order to prevent toxic levels of unnecessary drama from contaminating conversation.
Lesson #2= Always make the god-forsaken bed and make sure that the blankets and sheets are on correctly before commencing exhausted plummet into sleepy-land. On the rare occasions one forgets to do so, one is very, very regretful.
Posted on November 15, 2010
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