There was a lot of heavy breathing, gasping, and panting going on in our bedroom the other day.
"It's too big," I said.
"Just lift it a bit more.
A bit more? I was already straining with every fiber of my being. Could I be having a heart attack? Or maybe it was a stroke. Hadn't I heard that menopausal women were subject to heart attacks and strokes when under stress?
No. It's not what you think. The Wretch and I were rotating the mattress. This mattress requires three strong men and a boy to lift, but The Wretch decided that together, he and I, were up to it.
Not so.
We finally succeeded in turning the mattress, then collapsed upon it. "I'm glad that's done," I panted out.
"We could do something more on it," The Wretch suggested, a leer in his eye.
"Get real."
Gem for the day: rotating a mattrress is all I'm good for in any given day.
This literally made me laugh out loud. And I'm still laughing.
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