Last night I had a lousy night's sleep. Tossed (blink) and turned (blink). No matter how hard I tried, that tiny, yellow, ridiculous, monotonous, light on the TV would not let me doze off. I had a battle with 'Good Sandra' vs 'Bad Sandra', whether to turn on the light and reset the stupid clock. Eventually, Good Sandra resolved come dawn she would do the right thing and fix the clock, and she finally fell into a deep sleep.
Come the dawn. The very first thing I do is fix the clock.
Frankie: (Bounding into the room, coffee in hand.) "Hey, you fixed the clock...you must have found your mug."
Me: "Mumble, mumble, mumble." (Did she think to bring me coffee...Nooooooo.)
Frankie: "Sooo, where was it?"
Me: "Mumble, mumble, mumble." I really don't want to tell her what happened, she will NEVER let me forget how I was on her case for so long.
I decide to come clean, and I tell her my story, she listens in rapture, occasionally nodding.
Uh oh! My tale is greeted with (loud) silence.
More silence, time ticking by. She sets her coffee mug down. This can't be good.
Next thing I know I'm getting hit with a bed pillow. I'm at a disadvantage, trapped under blankets. I tell ya', I got pummeled.
Eventually, I'm able to dislodge myself, and get in a few well placed smacks myself. A pillow fight ensues and we exhaust ourselves ending up in a fit of giggles on the bed. While we're lying there, trying to regain composure and our breaths, we hear on the news that yesterday was world wide pillow fight day.
Well, I'll be a son-of-a-gun. We erupt into laughter again. I think I've been forgiven.
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