I am not the most pleasant person to share a bed with. I sleep with my mouth open. I drool. I steal blankets; winding them around me, making them impossible to take back. And if you try to wake me it’s like poking an angry bear.
Don’t even get me started on how I look first thing in the morning. Let’s just say I’m notorious for not removing my eyeliner and by 6 a.m. I look like I spent the whole night crying and fighting with myself.
It wouldn’t surprise me if Roo left me in the middle of the night, but he’s been a good sport. We rarely get up without one another unless he has to get up early for extra help before school.
Roo’s currently on April vacation, and when I rolled over at 5:30 this morning I wondered what he was doing up so early on a non-school day. Pre-coffee and bleary eyed (again, I hadn’t removed my eyeliner), I wandered out into the hallway.
Was he in the bathroom? I knocked on the door, ”Love?”
“Yeah,” Roo answered from the living room.
I walked over and sat next to him on the couch, “Oh good. You’re alive.”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you didn’t come back to bed was because you were in the bathroom.”
“How long did you think I was in the bathroom for?”
“Well, that’s why I came out. I was worried that you had died. On the toilet….Like Elvis.”
“So, I guess I should be happy you’re comparing me to the King of Rock?”
“And ignoring the fact that I thought I foresaw your death, woefully on the toilet? Yes. Anyway, why are you up?”
“I have a headache.”
“Oh…do you want breakfast? Sometimes I get headaches when I’m hungry.”
“If by breakfast, you mean 5 peanut butter and bacon sandwiches, then yes.”
“Five?”
“I mean, you did compare me to Elvis.”
“I know…You really want me to find you dead on the toilet, don’t you.”
“Having you explain to my mother how you found me would be worth it.”
“You’re so dead to me.”
