Just a thought… …and the Three Bears. No one ever questions why Papa Bear and Mama bear slept in separate beds. What was going on in that marriage? More backstory needed. [Jim Gaffigan]
I was going to call this “The Pinky, the Puppy and the Conjugal Visit,” but, a) I don’t title my journals, b) Rob cut his ring finger and not his pinky – although the alliteration floats my boat and c) there is no “c” but things are better in threes.
So having said all that, here goes.
We’re three weeks and one day from Rob’s near joint-deleting finger injury, and my flight to Kelowna to pick up a little puppy named Rosie. While we’re working on her outdoor training (our success rate depends entirely on how quickly we see her heading towards the door), she’s got a high-pitched “yip!” whenever I leave her sight.
So yes, we’re going to work on that a lot, so that in the not-too-distant future, she can be left alone for an hour or two. That will come as a great relief to us all; she yips and cries in her dog carrier (on my lap) when we take the car to do our meal deliveries. It’s enough to make our ears bleed, but hopefully that changes soon.
Since Rosie arrived that Sunday, Rob has been sleeping in the guest bedroom. Rosie dozes next to me, attached to a leash whose handle is tucked under my pillow, so if she tries to get off the bed (which is surrounded by throw pillows but could still result in injury), I feel her departure. So far she hasn’t tried to make an escape.
Rob’s separate sleeping (which has never happened regularly in our 34 years of couplehood) is to keep Rosie from waking when he gets up in the night, but also to let him try to deal with the pain in his finger, which strikes at various hours. I haven’t really minded the solo sleeping but have missed him, if that makes sense. Rosie? She doesn’t know anything different and as far as she’s concerned, she and I own that king-sized bed.
So…let me take you to the conjugal visit part of the story, and I’ll tell it in terms that I might use if I was relating it on the radio (don’t know that I would) and I knew that kids might be listening and would ask questions if I wasn’t super careful.
On Saturday, Rob expressed a wish to wander down the hall to my end of the house. (Despite his occasional hand pain and a sore lower lip that was bitten on Friday by an exuberant puppy, he’s still the boy I married.) I
gave in relented wholeheartedly agreed and on we went with our day. Come evening, I started wondering about the logistics and just how realistic this visit was going to be. Then at 9 pm, Rosie was in a deep sleep on the floor, so I suggested we make a run for it. Or an amble. You know, we’re not teenagers.
And here’s where it gets weird (as if this wasn’t enough). In order to keep her from noticing we were heading out of the room, I found a file from the narration job that I’m still working on, and played my own voice from my computer. All she heard was Mommy talking and as far as she knew, I was still sitting in my chair next to her and not shutting up. You know, the same as usual.
All’s well that ends well and she was none the wiser, Rob slept well in the guest bed, and Rosie and I had a good night’s sleep, too.
I mean, I get why couples sleep separately, and usually working hours, sleep incompatibility or snoring are the culprits, but this is only a temporary measure (I keep telling Rob, and myself). In the meantime, we’re all just going with the flow. After all, isn’t that what we’re being called upon to do in 2020?