Me 'n beds...

I just recently (last night, in fact) discovered I have an aversion to beds. Hmmm.

I have a bed where I live now, but I choose not to sleep in it. I mean, it is in my daughter's bedroom, and it is noisy back there - but, I'm not entirely sure that's the real reason I choose to sleep in the front room, on the sofa.

In our last apartment, I had my own room, and my own double bed. In the two years we lived there, I don't think I slept the night through once. When I spent nights at my boyfriends' house, I slept poorly too (of course, I believed at the time it was due to his incessent farting). The apartment we had after I left the husband, was a one-bedroom - and I slept either on a very uncomfortable futon, or the sofa - both of which were in the front room. I slept like a baby out there.

When I was married, I slept in a bed - with my husband, or my child, or both - mostly me and the child. I slept pretty good, but here's the thing - I hardly ever made that bed. I used to be able to sleep on it with no fitted sheet. Just me and the mattress, and a wad of blankets... I have slept with wads of blankets and sleeping bags, and mattresses on floors for most of my adult life. I sleep fine like that. Give me a nice bed, with matching comforter, sheets and pillowcases (pillowcases???) and I'm an instant insommniac. How absolutely weird - and what's weirder is I've never thought about this before.


While I'm on a roll of self-disclosure - I used to have a best girlfriend, who for reasons only known to me - I will hereafter refer to as Mavis. Mavis and I worked at the same company. She was a sober woman and I became a sober woman while working there. She and I went to school together to become Drug and Alcohol counselors. If it wasn't (weren't?) for me, she never would have passed the courses. Mavis isn't very smart... Anyway, we became closer than ever due to our matriculation at UCLA. We'd talk on the phone every day - because by that time, I'd moved on to another company - we'd carpool to school, and see one another on weekends. Typical best gal behavior.

Well, I got involved in a sordid affair, left the husband, got my car stolen by the affair-ee, got into another unhealthy relationship - and, yes it became pretty much all about me... Poor Mavis must have felt abused by me. Ignored by me. Abandoned by me. And, for the most part - that was true. I did only want to talk about my stuff. My stuff was the most interesting stuff I had ever contemplated. I was short tempered with Mavis when she didn't get my point the first, or second time. I forgot Mavis' birthday. I gave her Christmas presents that weren't especially thought-out.

I suppose Mavis had every reason to dump me as a friend. I'm okay with that, really. There really wasn't a whole lot to the friendship after a while, and I haven't missed her once in the two years since I last spoke with Mavis... What does piss me off - is the way she broke up with me. She just stopped returning phone calls. I so fucking hate that! I hate that in the week before she decided never to speak to me again - she was referring to me in writing as "my dear friend" - and laughing and talking as if nothing was bugging the shit out of her about me. She didn't even have the balls to say "Hey! I detest you. You suck as a friend, and I'm breaking up with you. Never speak to me again!"

Boy, that bugs me! Grrrrr!

"Life Not Worth Living If You Not Take Risk" Brian, QAF

July 03, 2002

Buh Bye!
October 05, 2008

Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
September 01, 2008

One Last Bitchfest for the Road
August 24, 2008

Get the Popcorn Ready
July 17, 2008

I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
June 20, 2008

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