So… I would guess that if someone was to read, let’s say, my status updates on Facebook, and sum those tid-bits up as my day-to-day life, one would probably be under the impression that I do little more than work, drink, love my Troyskis and Littles in a magical perfect land called Home, and sleep. Wait… well that is actually somewhat true… It was meant to be drastic and funny and obviously not, but… Any who… I have refrained from telling FB, friends, the world, of all the little ridiculous things that happen, the arguments, and other funny happenings between Troy and I out of a mix of the fact that:
1. I hardly see my friends anymore since I am one of two things at all times (being either terribly busy or equally terribly lazy) and;
2. I know, I tell terribly long, drawn out stories that by the time I get to my point you’ve had it with me… I can’t help it… I inherited it from my mother, who in fact, points it out to me constantly, herself limping around in denial when it is her upbringing that has caused this blemish in my storytelling capability.
In addition, it was recently brought to my attention that I am “never” stewing mad at/planning on killing my boyfriend. Apparently, there are some of you out there that believe that Troy and I are one of the happiest couples that have ever existed and our problems never get worse than running out of milk or a frightful minute or two when the remote for the TV can’t be found. This is not true. And once this was brought to my attention, my brain began to fill with all this stuff that I have now decided must be told, if not for the sole reason, to free the idea from people’s heads that Troy and I just bask in each other’s awesomeness day and night…
Let’s start with:
The Vicodin Incident
One day long, long ago… probably mid-August… Troy injured his back doing something incredibly manly such as log chopping or rock moving or whatever else it is that he does that is typically in excess when I am not around.
As a result he went to the Doctor who prescribed him some Vicodin to ease the throbbing pain. Now, as manly and amazing that Troy is, he is no doctor. Nor does he believe in such silly things as “reading the little pamphlet that comes with medicine”. Same as he doesn’t believe in such silly things as “Instruction Manuals” or those “Assembly Instructions” which always leave us with “x” amount of screws or bolts that Troy then insists were “extras”.
A week goes by and I am under the assumption that since there has been no incessant whining for a few days that his back pain is gone and so are his Vicodin. We decide to get a movie and a bottle (or 3) of wine. Fast-forward 3 hours and bottles of wine later, I am exhausted and ready for bed; and amazingly so is Troy, so we cuddle in for the night.
3 a.m.: I am awakened by slight pushing and tapping on my upper body and general unapproved moving about in the bed. I begin to come to from my slumber to know 3 things for certain:
1. It is 3 a.m.;
2. It is hardly light enough to see much of anything, except;
3. Troy is sitting nervously on his knees and asking me questions with some unknown urgency.
By now, 10 seconds have passed and I know I am not dreaming. I ask Troy why he has woken me up.
Me: Troy, what is going on?
Troy: (with angry furrowed eyebrows while hissing) Do you see this?
Troy now points at the floor repeatedly and seemingly furiously.
I am beyond confused as I have just been woken up and come to my own conclusion that one of the legs on the bed must have broken and although I couldn’t tell, we were on an angle and this has woken and angered Troy.
I peer over the side of the bed and see nothing. I look back at Troy who is not only angry for some reason that I cannot determine, but he is livid with me now.
Me: What the hell is going on?
Troy: (livid) IT’S LIKE THIS!!!!! ::Troy is now making signs via Secret Troy Sign Language - that looks to be like he is showing me how to write an “N” DIRECTLY in front of my nose::
I have never been so confused in my life.
Me: I simply do not know what the hell you are doing, why you are mad, or what you are trying to sign to me.
Without another word, he gets under the blankets and within about 7 seconds is snoring like a bear.
Me: What was that last night?
Me: ::Does a play-by-play of what happened not 6 hours earlier::
Troy: That really happened?
Troy: Wow. I had a dream that we were stuck on the bed on top of a mountain and we had to keep it balanced or we were going to go down the mountain… and you kept moving and going towards the edge…
Me: Huh. So, you still had some of those nice little pills left over… and mixed them with wine, huh? You know it’s terribly dangerous to mix such potent narcotic pain reliever and alcohol? You didn’t read that little pamphlet that came with those drugs, did you?
Troy: What pamphlet?