Went down to the old girl's house for Mothers' Day, as you do. When it came to sleeping arrangements, Ben and I were shown to the queen size bed in the bungalow, where there was already one black spider making itself at home through the open window, and the air was 90% ice. We recalled sharing a single bed in our early days, and thought we'd take our chances comfort-wise on the bottom bunk in my sister's room, being that I already had a cold and thought less cold air would be suitable (and happen to find minimal spiders an ideal sleeping condition). In fact, we decided, it would be utterly adorable and most certainly cosy.
So, about an hour into our being twisted together like pretzels, I questioned how the hell we'd ever managed to nocturnally cohabit such a teeny space. (Although, the fact Ben's muscles now burst out of the shirts he used to wear should've sounded alarm bells). Not one for snuggling, I quickly grew boiling hot, and fidgeted around removing pajama pants, a sock.. My wig. Ben's undies (what? I was bored). I was clearly disturbing my co-sleeper, in any case, but what finally drove me to the brink was an indistinguishable, repetitive thudding sound somewhere in the house that grew into a very loud banging. Wig, sock and pj's went back on (I kept Ben's knickers as a trophy), and I whisked up a blanket to find a new sleeping space.
I sourced the banging to a demonic shower with an unworldly dripping volume, stumbled across a sleeping bag (score) and, once I had climbed over / cleared unpredictable items typical of my mother's house (such as a ladder..?), settled down on the floor of the lounge room. My brother had the couch and upon hearing me enter even lit my way with his phone (helpful for the ladder clearing). Things were looking up.
By waking Johnny, though, so did I wake his chest infection, and the poor bastard's blood-curdling death rattle ensued. Just like when you're stuck in traffic and you wonder whether to change lanes, though, I was relieved not to have changed rooms when (20 minutes later..) the coughing subsided. With a cold of my own, I discovered that lying on my back (the most comfortable floor-sleeping position) sent a continual stream of snot down my throat. I turned onto my.. "child-bearing" hips, thus discombobulating my spine, but nevertheless began to drift into a soundless dreamland... But, while some of us like such quiet and oh, I dunno, SLEEPING during the night, do you know what other people like doing?: TEXTING MY BROTHER! ARRRGH!!! The lounge had served me poorly and was added to the list of places I'd like to explode (maybe, or maybe not giving Johnny time to evacuate) as I packed my sorry, tired arse up and returned to Belle's room.
I squished down in the narrow floor space between the bed and a pile of clothes, where I was kept alert by the fear of Ben stepping on me in the night, or Belle jumping on my head from the top bunk in the morning (due to either their not knowing I was there, or the simple fact that I'm an evil bitch who deserves it). The room was considerably colder than the warm lounge where sicko Johnny had possession of the only heater (an oddly rare device in freezing cold Fish Creek), so I rested the sleeping bag over my face like a frigging grub in a cocoon and tried not to think about the potentially grimy journey it had endured prior to my finding it in the middle of the floor (and why it was full of Nerf bullets...). I had again reached an acceptable condition for sleep when my step-father's alarm clock reminded me that he's a dairy farmer (Yay!) and then, once he'd left for work, a rooster told me it was dawn!!! Thanks, thoughtful bird!!!!!!!! Ah, the country.. How's the serenity?
I basically laid awake until 7 am when my mother rose, her consciousness signalled by a smoker's cough which joined in beautiful unison with my brother's chesty baritone (both usually followed by a puff of ventolin [and the lighting up of more cigarettes. Ah, just what the doctor ordered]). I could hear them talking (probably about what an amazing night sleep they'd gotten and how lame it would be to be lying on the floor right now. Bastards!) and considered joining them when it dawned on me, "Geoff's out of bed. Mum's up. Free bed!" Not leaving my sleeping bag, I shuffled down to the kitchen in cocooned grub form (although I didn't morph into a fucking butterfly later, I can tell you that) and literally begged the pathetic words: "Mama, can I sleep in your bed?" (At least it was on Mothers' Day. I'm sure my vulnerability was a precious gift). And there I slept in my mummy's bed for a brief but gratifying 2 hours, before heading back out into the world to tackle more bullshit, and to inflict tenfold of my own.
