I don't recall the exact statistics of the number of injuries that occur while conducting our day to day life activities at home but I do remember that it was alarming. To that point I began to try and analize best how to head off an impending calamity that I worry about every evening as the sun decends. We have something that happens in our bedroom at home that we really don't like to talk about outside of the family but I feel that talking about it can only help lead us down the road to recovery. That's right. My husband falls out of bed! Now before you start to speculate allow me to eliminate some factors you may think you are contributing. He falls out of bed perfectly sober. My husband doesn't drink but I have been known to partake of a libation before bed just because of impending dread of the sound of something going "bump in the night".
We live in a old farm house. May I say a small house given today's cavernous ideas of a modest dwelling. Our bedroom is small! We are both shall I say ample size adults and even though a king size bed would be more comfortable a queen size is all that will fit in the space. I have always held the opinion that men could function with the most spartan amount of furniture. A bed, chair, and a table to set the remote control on are all they really require. Now a woman....well one of the many reasons God created woman was so the furniture industry would have a reason to exist! How many men do you know that have purchased a jewelry armoire? A fainting couch to Bubba is a lawn chair to watch the babes at the beach. So I have seemed to manage to pack into this small bedroom a high dresser, a antique lowboy dresser with mirror and another small dresser all to accompany our queen size bed with the high oak headboard. Oh, let's not forget the dressing bench at the foot of the bed. All the dressers are adored with pieces of my hand painted china. This bedroom is not arranged for the mad throes of youthful passion. Any mode of thrashing around will wreck havoc like playing golf in a greenhouse. This is a room for sedate reflection and contemplation. To unwind from the day and organize our minds and renue our bodies for the next day. Well mostly it consists of 2 middle agers snoring with one of the parties fighting the "hot flash" demon throughout the night.
Leslie has fallen out of bed several times. He is always dreaming some wild dream and I am awaken with a thud and expletives. He has hit the dresser many times and this last weekend he bent the bottom drawer knob with his knee....yes he does get hurt sometimes. I tease him because I don't know if he is still in his youth where rails with bumper pads keep you safe and cozy or if he has crossed over the big water to the geriatric bed with rails and bed pan close by. I told him if my disposition was more like Joan Crawford I would harness him in bed at night just like in "Mommy Dearest". When I try to research the internet for some type of harness I am channeled to "S & M" toys and apparel sites. I now get spam from places that make my computer's trash bin blush.
I know what you are thinking...she's a farm wife for heavens sake. Can't she just use some rope and safely secure my sweetie so he won't come to any harm. I am one step ahead of you. I have thought about waltzing right into the farm wife's Macy's....Rural King. I can see myself walking through Rural King....past the chicken feeders....turn right at the hose couplings and back to the rope section. They always have a friendly sales person to aid you in finding just the right tool for the job. I look at the clerk and tell him that I need some rope. He proceeds to ask me what type of rope I would like. Not being very informed about the nuances of bindings and say "something I can tie a good tight knot in". He asks me if I want hemp, nylon or cotton cording. He shows me the cotton cording and I say to him "oh, I don't think that cord will hold him". The clerk asks me how large the steer is I am trying to tie up. In order to purchase the correct item for the job I am forced to confess to the helpful clerk "it's not a steer but an ole' bull that won't stay in his stall at night. I'm tying my old man in bed" at this point my mental scenario begins to spin out of control like one of those black light posters from days gone by. I envision the clerk's face aghast and hearing on the loud speaker "case of spousal bondage on aisle 4"!
So I am left still pondering the best course of action. I am now thinking about wrapping him up in bubble wrap and a helmet and just hoping for the best!
Sweet dreams from down on the farm....
(c) 2013 Ellen Wilson-Pruitt