Tonight, I'm tired. I'm recording my show about the coral reefs narrated by David Attenborough, the greatest nature show narrator EVER, and I'm looking forward to climbing into my bed and catching up on some reading.
I climb into my bed and get comfortable and what do I discover? A wet spot. If only the cat had snuck into my room and peed on my bed. If only. Cat urine would have been easier to deal with than what it actually was.
Last week when I rushed my mother to the ER I left my lunch box in my office where it stayed at room temperature for exactly one week. In my lunchbox I had a freezer pack, which melted, half a container of hummus and a pyrex dish of some leftover green beans that I did not eat for lunch last Tuesday. When I got home this evening after volunteering at the homeless shelter I haphazardly tossed my lunchbox onto my bed and called my mother and dicked around for about an hour before I picked it up and dealt with the nasty green bean sludge it became. Guess what the cold, wet spot on my bed is?
Yes, rank green bean detritus. Gross green bean offal that leaked out of the pyrex dish and through the velcro and onto and into my bed. My lunchbox is leaky. Sounds like a personal problem, right?
So what do I have to do? Get out of bed strip all the linen off the bed, lysol the fuck out of the mattress and pray it quits smelling. Then I have to put down a towel and put new linen on the bed. Do you know the last time I had to put down a towel? Actually, now that I think about it, I do remember. It was shortly after I used my big girls words to tell England I liked him; it ended up being a fortuitous decision, as you can probably interpret.
Can you imagine how hard it is to sleep when your bed smells of rotten green beans? It's not easy. I should have thought about that and made the wise decision to carefully place the lunchbox with old, moldy green beans on the floor instead of tossing it onto the bed with the patented MJ jump shot.
Chalk it up to yet another poor judgment call from Anna Gray.