Tuesday, July 19, 2005

The Marriage Bed

We broke the bed.

I'd like to say that we were in the middle of passionate lovemaking when the bed broke, but we were actually sound asleep. It was 3:00am, and suddenly my husband was rolling off toward the floor, and the dog was sleepily but hurriedly crawling out from underneath the bed, no doubt thinking the other side was due to crash down any second.

Since it was my husband's side that went down, it would be very convenient to blame him. My husband is seven inches shy of being seven feet tall, and not at all demurely weighing two hundred forty pounds (he will one day be the subject of a 'my daddy can kick your daddy's ass' conversation. I hope he can fight). I felt him turn over, heard a crack, and by the time I was fully awake he was standing over the bed, and I was looking down a three hundred thread count slippery slope. Yes. I could get away with blaming him.

Except I know that's not what happened. To borrow a phrase from Pookie and 'dem down in the 'hood: See, what had happened was....

I like to move furniture around. Our bed started out on the east wall of the room, then I moved it to the south wall, then set it diagonally between the east and south walls, and then I figured out where I wanted it: on the north wall, between the windows.

Every time I moved the bed, I noticed it jiggled a little more. I don't think that 1) platform beds are meant to be pulled across floors, they are probably meant to be lifted and 2) platform beds are meant to be moved by one person. Since I'm the only person in the house who moves furniture around, however, I was the only person tugging the bed across the floor and loosening the screws sufficiently to send my husband crashing to the floor without the benefit of sex, and on a morning he had to be up before 6:00am.

I am so a good wife.

My husband, my hero, trudged to the basement for the drill and bandaged the bed together so we could go back to sleep. Then last night, he reinforced it with longer screws, so we could hopefully do more than just sleep on the bed. As I helped him fit the platform joints back into the headboard, I suggested that perhaps I wouldn't move the bed anymore, just in case. He just looked at me.

See? When you know each other as well as we do, you don't have to actually confess. I am sure the mystery of the broken bed will be water under the bridge from now on.

Either that, or it is now logged in the secret notebook he plans to unveil during the divorce hearings.

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