The Cow-orker just paid a visit, so I've been treated to a glimpse inside Chez Cow-orker.
The Spouse got somewhat hammered last night. The Cow-orker woke up at 1.30 this morning to find him swaying at the end of the bed, clutching a video camera. When asked what the hell he was doing, his response was that now he was finally going to prove she snored.
The Cow-orker tells him he's an idiot and, morevoer, that he's creeping her out with his video camera antics and is never to do anything like that again. The Spouse objects to being described as creepy, and decides to teach her a lesson by sleeping on the couch. The old, backbreaker couch, that is, with no suspension or upholstery. Yeah, that'll teach her. He grabs a blanket and a pillow and retires to the moral highground where videotaping unsuspecting sleeping women isn't considered the province of serial killers and stalkers.
An hour later the Cow-orker is woken by a crash. The Spouse, having successfully half-crippled himself on the couch, has tried to return to bed but tripped over the blanket in mid-lurch and collapsed in an incoherent heap on the floor. Eventually he makes it to bed.
An hour after that, the Cow-orker is woken again. This time, he's out on the front porch, urinating off into the darkness. His explanation this time is that it was closer than the toilet, which is at the other end of the house. She returns inside, grateful that it's still only 3.30am and that they have a high fence along the front of their yard. It's not until much later that she realises how lucky she was that he was able to negotiate the front door in the first place.
Just another night in the suburbs, really...
1 comment:
This may explain a lot of things!
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