realexplodingcat | Zombies Under Bed

OK, I am long overdue for a "my wife is crazy" post. Now, I know--the term should not be used lightly, but if she were wrapped in cellophane, she'd be mistaken for a Payday candy bar. Anyhow, I often try to forget just how crazy my wife is. You'd think this would be hard given her night terrors (oh! the screaming) and odd choice in houseguests (Ganesh! He ate all my peanuts), but those are but charming diversions. And her habit of playing Head and Shoulders, Knees and Tentacles with my firstborn son is really just a peculiar quirk.

The real problem is monsters and their chosen abode. My wife believes that monsters reside under our bed--any bed, really.

Oh, ho, ho! you think. She just has a vivid imagination.

No. My wife thinks Labyrinth is a documentary.

She's rather fond of monsters, in theory, but she fears the practical application of their talents--such as eating her feet. To this end, she stuffs as much as she can under the bed, assuring me that monsters live in transdimensional spaces, so she's not infringing upon their natural habitat, but merely using some handy storage. I swear, she fit a couple of kayaks under the bed, so maybe she's right about the transdimensional space. Plus, she points out, the more she puts under the bed, the more obstacles the monsters will stub their claws on, so she'll hear them coming when they try to nibble her toes.

So, I watch the floor, just in case. I have to admit, if I saw a lone glove scuttling out from the footboard, chased by a spool of packing tape and a Russian pool safety poster ca. 1993, I'd be a bit worried. I might even put away the straitjacket.

Anyhow, this is all academic. Most of the time I forget about her queer ideas. My life was happily (albeit sleepily) meandering along in blissful ignorance until tonight.

As usual, she waited until 10pm to start a project. Tonight's project: sidecarring the crib to our bed, so that she could move the baby over (he's been sleeping between us) and enjoy her half of our queen size mattress once again. Her side of the bed had been pressed up against the side-rail of the crib. Our room is too small to do otherwise. Also, we never put the baby in the crib because we didn't have the heart to drop him in the cage at night. Anyhow, she left me with a sleepy babe and ran to the bedroom, claiming she was going to shower in "just a minute". I eventually go in there to find that she's pretty much done with the sidecarring and she is covered with dust instead of being showered. The crib is cozied up next to our bed without the side-rail and the gap between the beds is filled in. So, while we don't have a "master bedroom" we now have a Master Bed, complete with an addition that could double as a den (it's got nice wood paneling on 3 sides) and a Master Bath (if you consider how often the baby will poop there).

She decides to take her shower and comments offhand "Well, I won't need the body pillow anymore."

For the last seven weeks, she's been pressed against a body pillow, which was in turn pressed against the side of the crib. I have no idea why she was willing to lose a foot of her space, but I didn't say anything, figuring she was probably doing some sort of somnabulent reclining to ease her sciatica. I shouldn't have asked, but I did.

"Um, why won't you need the body pillow?"

"Because the gap is closed over. Monsters can't come up that way."

Yes. For SEVEN weeks, she has slept in a tiny amount of space, turned on her side, because of the possibility that SOMETHING might squeeze through the bars of the crib after crawling from under our bed to under the crib. I point out that the bars were only 2" apart.

"Tentacles."

So there you have it. My wife has disrupted her precious sleep over the chance that something with tentacles will slither up from dimensions beyond any sane comprehension.

Tonight's a Glenlivet night.

Current Mood: hungry
Current Music: Squeaky Wheels - "Three Deaf Mice"