This morning began with a thump. Literally. As in I got onto my bed – perhaps with a little too much gusto – after sugaring and creaming my coffee, the bed went down.
If you’ve ever seen the bed risers that are sort of cone-shaped, you might understand why. My MacGyver-esque daddy helped me by using boards to stack two sets of them. Thus, I have enough room for my luggage, under-bed drawers, and a laundry basket under my bed.
And I’m not sure how it happened, but somehow the way I wiggled back onto my bed caused a shift. Poor Kathryn, who had just reached a full state of consciousness (she usually takes about twenty minutes to get her eyes fully open) watched with me as the bed and I jolted forward and backward and down.
This is your introduction to Kathryn. She’s really great.
After the bed went down, we looked at each other – still sort of in the morning-brain haze – helplessly, wondering how that happened. Then, still without much talking, Kathryn lifted and adjusted the risers in order to get it back up to its right place.
I can tell she’s a good friend already. That’s what good friends do when your bed falls down and you might have caused it by wiggling too much. They just look at you like, well. that happened and help you get back up.
It’s too soon to know, but I’m sure if I start wiggling too much on my bed or suggest jumping on it, Kathryn will be the first to warn me about what happened last time. (not that I’d want to jump on my bed. I’d hit my head on the ceiling.)
There we are, the happy roomies. Actually, I just told Kathryn that I was blogging about our bed escapade this morning and she told me that if it happened again, she wouldn’t be there to help me. She’s joining the rowing team, and they practice from 5:15-7:30. That’s AM, folks.
I guess I’m on my own now.