Wednesday was unexpectedly stressful in the evening, and that with a combination of staring at a spreadsheet all day at work plus the joy of hormones led to my recently quiet headache ramping up in the evening.
Our solution to the problem was a simple one: Go to bed early.
At the wild hour of 9:30, while others were beginning their Cinco de Mayo festivities, we were completely ready to conk out.
Sometimes, laying down actually feels like it does more harm than good, and being horizontal (get your minds out of the gutter!) was doing nothing to decrease my discomfort.
Army Boy generously offered to go get me the ice pack from the freezer, which has been my best friend lately. The ice pack, not the freezer. That would be weird.
“Hey buddy, you keeping those chicken breasts COLD? Yeah! You’re AWESOME!”
Wow, my issues are so much deeper than even I realized.
Anyway, he returned minutes later with the icepack neatly wrapped in a dishtowel, and placed it gently on my head. For a few moments, we lay there silent as I appreciated the pure icy bliss on my head. Then, a little nagging voice spoke up in the back of my head, and forced its way out my mouth.
“Uh, babe? Is this a clean towel? Or is this the one that I used to dry the table after the lemonade spill?”
Cue awkward silence for a few seconds, and then a muffled chuckle from the other side of the bed.
“I was wondering why that was draped on the chair…”
“Yeah. Reminder for me to put it in the laundry. And definitely not on my head.”
Sad truth? I was too tired to care, and passed out with the icepack and offending dishtowel firmly in place.
Love is never having to say “Oops, I grabbed the dirty dishtowel and put it on your head.” I think that’s what the movie “Love Story” was trying to teach us all along. I mean, aside from the whole “Ali McGraw made brunettes cool for a while” thing and “Gee dad, won’t you be sorry when my wife DIES and you were such a jerk.”
What, that wasn’t the point?
Also, WHY is Kill Bill the second thing that comes up on IMDB when you search for “Love Story”? The internet is screwing with me, I swear.