[OT] Last Night

Gracious! I was both laughing and crying for you. Thanks for
sharing.

--

Christopher A. Young
You can't shout down a troll.
You have to starve them.
..

"Yowie" wrote in message
...
: Last night, after an incredibly exciting evening of cooking
dinner, shopping
: and having a long and incredibly detailed discussion of the
existentialist
: sub-theme in Thomas the Tank compared and contrasted to the
essential
: Marxist nature of Bob The Builder, I finally found my way to
bed at the
: exceptionally late time of 10pm.
:
: Having not been bothered to replace the light bulb in the
bedroom for
: several decades now, I didn't bother looking where I was going,
the body has
: developed 'muscle memory' of its own about this particular
activity, and can
: find its own way to bed, even if the brain has turned itself
off. I used to
: think this was a useful characteristic when I went out drinking
to the wee
: small hour sof the morning with my friends, but find its even
more essential
: when one has already fallen asleep at 6pm and still has another
4 hours of
: explaining why one shouldn't try to poke popcorn into the dog's
bottom to
: someone who has the attention span of a gnat with brain damage.
:
: So it came as a bit of a shock that there was a definite
*crunching* sound
: as my not insubstantial weight fell upon the mattress. This,
however, didn't
: deter me. Well, not much. I am used to strange things in the
bed these
: days - the sort that wiggle and pull my hair and want have a
deep &
: meaningful about the nature and meaning of poo-poo at 3am.
Quite frankly, I
: can sleep through anything, and a mere 'crunch' in the bed no
longer bothers
: me. Unless of course, the crunch has a definite roach or
arachnid sort of
: sound.
:
: But this particular crunching was not of the exoskeletal sort,
and I was not
: alarmed - nor even alert. I turned over, more crunching. I
rearranged the
: pillows - more crunching. In a last ditch effort I 'foofed' the
doona. In
: the dark and gloom, it sounded very much like there were
*things* falling on
: the floor. Light things, no heavy impacts, but definite
'plopping' sorts of
: sounds.
:
: And now my shoulder & hip were feeling rather itchy.
:
: Something was afoot. Or rather ashoulder and ahip.
:
: I reached under the doona to have a bit of a feel about. I
found balls.
: (Joel was not in bed with me). Lots of balls. *Hundreds* of
balls. I got
: out of bed, and my foot crunched on the floor. The smell of
cheesy snack
: food was now quite overwhelming. I turned the hall light on to
see what
: terrible tragedy had befallen my bedchamber.
:
: There were deceased, critically injured and intact-but-stale
cheese & bacon
: balls all through my bed. They had gotten *under* the sheets,
into my pillow
: cases and even throughout the doona. My bed was full of bright
yellow,
: sticky, oily fragments, and I had been clearly crumbed with
them too. This
: does explain why my son smelt vaguely of 'cheesy poufs' when I
came home,
: but hadn't actually eaten any. He had generously fed my clearly
malnourished
: and starving bed instead, bless him.
:
: When I was young, I had not envisaged myself having to vacuum
snack food
: crumbs out of my bed. Clearly, my adult life is not what I had
imagined it
: to be. Then again, I don't think any sane person would imagine
getting
: *into* bed with cheesy-bacon balls (then again, some people
have really
: *strange* ideas on what they should sleep with!).
:
: So, after clogging up the vacuum twice with sticky yellow
ex-food, I chose
: to have a shower, and put an end to my resemblance to an item
due for deep
: frying. The bed clothes went into the washing machine, and as I
loaded them
: 50 minutes later into the dryer, I consoled myself with the
thought that
: doing laundry in the dead of night was probably good practice
for when Cary
: starts wetting the bed. *If* he lives that long!
:

"Yowie" wrote in message
...
So, after clogging up the vacuum twice with sticky yellow ex-food, I chose
to have a shower, and put an end to my resemblance to an item due for deep
frying. The bed clothes went into the washing machine, and as I loaded
them
50 minutes later into the dryer, I consoled myself with the thought that
doing laundry in the dead of night was probably good practice for when
Cary
starts wetting the bed. *If* he lives that long!

Oh - I know these late night dig deeper than you thought you could moments
all too well! Purrs to you and for Carey to make it to and through wetting
the bed :-)

Susan M
Otis and Chester

"Yowie" wrote in message
...
.... I consoled myself with the thought that doing laundry in the dead of
night was probably good practice for when Cary starts wetting the bed. *If*
he lives that long!

Hi Yowie,
This is why those little ones are so cute. Just like hoolikittens, it's a
survival thing.

I printed this out to send to our daughter to let her know what she has to
look forward to in a year or so. Now, she's calling us up almost every day
so that we can hear our little grandson's laugh. I think a baby's laugh is
one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

Annie