Friday, August 22, 2008
The following is a true story. It is told verbatim. I will give a bit of background to illustrate the level of embarrassment and general experience of horror I encountered. Put the seat-belts on. It may be a long ride, but trust me it is worth it. That is, if you like reveling in the pain of others. I know I do.
We begin with a fairly benign story. It involves common themes. It was a Tuesday night and I had a glass of wine. It was cheap. As in from the value wine isle. But, it was BV, which happens to be one of my and AM's fave Napa/affordable wines and we just discovered it comes in the redonculously big size. You see where this may be going. You are partly correct and partly way off base. Let's continue.
I open the bottle and drink at a fairly reasonable pace. I know I don't have to be up early for work, but I am certainly not looking to be shitty on a Tuesday night. I go upstairs and cuddle into bed. It is a bit warm still, but I figure the breeze will pick up and I will fall asleep to the gentle sway of air and mini-blinds. Aaron has opted to sleep downstairs after a while, because I am still up reading (and drinking) with the light on. Also it is still hot. Add to this his radiator like abilities and we have one overheated mexican.
Good so far right? Yes. And this is where you may expect things to go horribly wrong, but they don't. I drink more wine, and admittedly get a little emo. I listened to songs that always pull on my heart strings and make me consider yesteryears, but overall I was fine. No big deal. The night continued and I realized I wasn't sleepy yet, so I started to watch a documentary online and feel oh-so enlightened about oil and how the USA became so dependent on it. I felt smart and a slightly lit. It was verging on 4am at this point. 5am came around and it finally occurred to me that perhaps I should really put some effort into sleeping. Okay, that sounds good.
I was feeling sort of alone and it was still warm upstairs so I decided to go downstairs to the makeshift bed we have in our dining room. It looks a little out of place, admittedly, but when it is effing hot at night, it is the best design idea ever. I make my way downstairs and crawl into bed with AM in a rather ungraceful manner. I mumble something about drinking lots of wine over the past 8 hours (holy moly!) and that I want to cuddle. I am not a cuddly person. In fact often I resist being held or hugged or touched for long periods of time. Growing up in a non-touchy family trained me this way. AM is very much a person who appreciates the closeness of someone loved and welcomed my drunken affection. He was too far asleep to really register anything anyways.
Are you still with me? It will get good real soon, I promise.
I pass out spooning AM, which is something I hardly ever do. He thinks I am being sweet and I have no idea what I am doing because the wine hit me, it is 5am and my body doesn't care where it is. All it wants is sleep. I would really like to take good wife credit for the cuddle factor, but truthfully I can't. Suck.
AM's alarm goes off in what really seems to me as five or ten minutes after I fall asleep. In actuality it is 3 hours later. I grumble something, AM kisses me on the forehead (I think) and says how nice it was to sleep so close. I shush him like the bitch I am and try to count the glasses of wine I had the night/morning before. Before I can come up with an official number I am passed out again. AM I think kisses me goodbye after he showers and puts on his suit. I am not completely sure about this, but it is a lovely habit he has, so I can assume he followed through as usual.
Have we established that I am hung-over and barely cognizant? I think so.
This is where it gets good. It does require a slight detour of story, but it will all make sense in time and I assure you, if you like super unlikely and humiliating stories, you should certainly hang in. You will be rewarded.
On Monday I called our landlord's maintenance line to request AGAIN that they fix a window with a massive crack in it. It was on our first floor and had me all freaked out because a broken window seems like an invitation to a burglar or crackhead to come in and take our things and/or accost me and the kitties. I am not okay with any of those things, so I called again and again until I received notice that the company they contract with would be out by weeks end. Also, I am breaking out and just learned that toothpaste is a home remedy for zits. I went to
bed with five minty dots on my face.
Do you see where this is going? Let me spell it out.
Me: (in bed, hungover in panties and a wife-beater) whazzuh?!
Door: Bang bang bang. Repair men!
Me: (throwing off covers) what?
Repairmen: We have authorization to enter to fix the window.
Me: (to myself) what? I thought they weren't coming for another few days... What the hell time is it?
Repairmen: We are going to enter now. (key in door)
Me: Ah! Woop! Hah!
Repairman 1: Hello, we are from... oh shit there is a girl in a bed!
Repairman 2: Where? Oh, she's naked!
Me: No, I... Its okay (throwing covers over my ass). Umm, just come on in and take care of the window. thats what your here for right?
Repairman 2: Yeah, that's what we said.
Me: (wiping toothpaste from my face) umm, so what do you need to do?
repairman 1: Is this the window? (pointing to a clearly broken windowpane)
Repairman 1 and 2: we can take care of this from the outside.
Me: (pulling the sheet up to my eyelids) are you sure. I can go upstairs if you need me to.
Repairman 1: no, its fine ma'am. It will be easier if we do it from the outside. we just needed to get a look at it. Umm, so we will be removing the window and making some noise... soo...
Me: That's fine. Just let me know if you need anything.
They left as though their asses were on fire and I grabbed a towel from the dryer and hightailed it upstairs before they could catch more views of my barely covered tush. Not that they would want to, but you never know.
I hid upstairs for the next hour with a pounding headache and a very bruised ego just waiting for them to finish so I could pour myself the biggest glass of water known to mankind and try to compose myself for work.
All I can think about is my pink mesh panties barely covering my hiney as my non-sober, toothpaste dotted face peered out at two highly unsuspecting men. Is there a lesson to be learned? Maybe, but I have no idea what it is because I am too busy trying to erase the memory altogether.
Posted by I Love You To Madness at 12:17 AM