Where, oh where, have my words run off to these days?
I feel like I'm never around anymore, and it's true. I come home tired, cranky, and frustrated. I eat and walk Choo Choo, and I lay down on the couch with Padawan until he carries me off to be because, quite frankly, I don't have the energy to get up again once I'm down.
For all that my face is apparently aging gracefully, my body seems to be aging in double time. Sore, tired...
And you know what it is, right?
It's our stupid bed.
It's too small for two people. We need a king sized bed, or at least a queen. A full sized bed for two people is ridiculous. Especially when you factor in that my dog, my delightful little Choo Choo, stretches herself out to the fullest across the bed, taking up as much space as I do laying on my back. And being a spoiled, selfish little creature, she had no problem kicking me when she's stretching out to ensure that she gets enough space. And sticking her feet under me, claws and all, when her little paws are cold.
I pointed out to Padawan that we need a bigger bed.
He claims that we can't have a bigger bed.
And men are supposed to be better at spacial reasoning. Ha!
The real reason is that the mattress we have (which was his before it was ours, because when we used my mattress he said it was too soft and of course his is way too firm) is one that he bought and he only had it for a year before I moved in so it's still pretty new (to him, anyway, my mattress was only mine for six months before it got shoved into storage) and he thinks it would be a waste of money to buy a new set of mattresses.
He thinks I don't understand that, but I do. Does he think I really don't notice how he insists on squeezing the very last, tiny bit of toothpaste out of the mangled tube before he breaks down, throws it out, and buys a new one? He doesn't like wasting things. (This is sadly how we wind up with all that food in our refrigerator. He can't stand the idea of throwing it away, he puts it in the fridge, and it promptly gets forgotten about until a week later when we toss it because we both know that, no matter what, once it goes into the refrigerator, it's not coming back out until it's not edible.) Then again, this is the same man who doesn't care about things going where they belong so long as they aren't sitting out where he can see them. Forks...smoke detectors...chopsticks...battery charger...all of it winds up in my purse if left out. Even when he's the one who left it out.
It's funny how he does things like that.
Anyway, is it too much to ask for a big bed?
I mean, my sleep is important. If I don't sleep well I'm cranky. And then I'm not hungry, and he hates it when I don't eat. And then I'm tired and I have no energy, which means I'm hardly amorous...and then you wind up with this awful situation in which I'm only feeling amorous a few times a week, and really how is that fair to anybody?
Sorry, I realize that you guys just got an up close and personal look into my...well, personal life. But seriously?
If a bigger bed is all it takes...why doesn't he just agree and say, "Yes, Chanel. Buy a bigger bed if that's what makes you happy." I mean...it's mutually beneficial if he agrees, so where's the down side? So what if I want to buy a huge four poster bed with pretty curtains? It's not girly if the curtains are blue....