What could possibly be going on here? What is longtime hubby doing? Well, it's hard to put into words, but now that I've had my caffeine and my one newly-improved eyeball is ready to focus on the topic du jour, I will do my best to explain.
He's trying to heal the luxurious queen-size inflatable bed we bought the newlyweds a year ago. Mostly, it's a laying on of hands. A spiritual quest of the highest order. But why? Why? WHY? To my one good, cataract-free eye, the inflatable looks fine. Alas, looks are deceiving, nice people. Over time, the spare mattress slowly deflates, offering overnight guests a sagging, sinking night of disappointing slumber.
And two new guests are arriving shortly. What to do? What. To. Do? Subject them to the afore-mentioned discomfort? Of course not. Just put longtime hubby on the case. He spent a good portion of Sunday trying to find the microscopic tear. He watched videos. He devoted himself to the Mission of the Mattress. Sadly, in the end, he failed. Don't tell him I said that. He doesn't like the "f" word, at least, not that one. But this isn't even the worst part. Finding the fissure will now be his life's work. He will not, repeat, NOT, accept defeat. Not now. Not ever. Oy gevalt, just thinking about this project flattens my spirit. But give him a challenge, and he'll face it head on. He'll keep searching for the elusive rip. The man is dedicated, if not just a tinge delusional. You know what this means, don't you? Along with the pretty blue sofa and the other offspring furniture we've welcomed into our home, we've now inherited yet another item: a defective King Koil. In the meantime, someone writing this blog has already secretly ordered another luxurious queen-size inflatable as an anniversary gift. The fancy blow-up bed may not have made it to the year mark, but the newlyweds are going strong, and really, isn't that all that matters?
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