Bedtime Story …

images-1When I was a small lad, I had to make my bed every morning, this was considered one of my chores as Dad used to call them.  I could not go play baseball at the park, rob a beer truck making deliveries at the liquor store, skateboard with my buddies until that bed was made.

It often put a serious crimp in my active social life.  In those years, what I call my “formidable years” it was necessary to meet others, greet them, chose sides, and intermingle and socialize.  Kind of like FaceBook in reverse.

Years later, I went in the service, things drastically changed for me.  But one aspect of life, stayed the same.  Each day I had to make my bed, which was now called a rack.  This had to be done before loading weapons onto jet aircraft that were destined to fly off the flight deck of my Super Carrier and kill people in strange exotic lands that Congress dispatched me to on my Senior Trip fresh outta highschool.

Came home … first thing you know … I got married (It’s lonely in the service even with don’t ask — don’t tell).  Well smack my butt and call me Judy!  Very first day of the Honeymoon SHE made me make my bed too.  Have to be honest with you, I just don’t get it.  Why do you have to make something that you are just going to lie down in at the end of the day?

Here’s another one “Make sure you have on clean under-wear.” 

Read that again if you must.  I have to be totally candid about this, I never understood that one at all, it just defied logic.  Then one day in 1991 I was in a fatal truck/train collision and … well, let’s just say, it gave a totally new meaning to the expression!  (And it didn’t make me a whole lotta new friends in the ER either)

Stop by tomorrow and we will discuss why it is that my bride hides my liquor bottles when the Grandkids show up.  It is not like I have a serious drinking problem or something like that, ‘cause I don’t. 

Why I feel the urge to discuss this is beyond me.  Might be it is for some strange reason this morning, that I feel a deep-seated urge to discuss this aspect of my marriage.

What the hell?  It aint Valentines’ Day yet.