Who crapped in my bed?
I mean it.
I demand to know who crapped in my bed.
I have no dogs living in my house.
I have no cats living in my house.
I have no young children living in my house.
The three bears would find it intolerable in my house.
Basically I have me living in my house and I was housetrained over 50 years ago.
And yet, there is a pile of crap in my bed.
So once again I ask, who crept in to my bed and crapped?
One night last week, weary from the day, exhausted from the drama, I crawled in to bed to relax and sleep.
There are approximately 6 pillows on my bed at all times. I tried to rearrange the pillows to my sleeping position. One pillow refused to move. No one gave the pillow the right to have its own mind. It is supposed to move as I want it to.
I investigated the unwilling pillow and found it wedged to the bed by a pile of dried brown stuff. Stuff that looked like crap.
I do, on occasion, take Ambien to help me sleep.
I know that there are those who wander and eat while on Ambien.
Are there those who take Ambien, wander and crap in stranger’s beds?
Nocturnal munching has never been my problem. I normally send unintelligent text messages or make long distance calls to friends who never answer. That has been the extent of my bizarre behavior on Ambien.
So how did the crap get on my sheets and how long had it been there that it could seal the pillow to the bed?
Ewwww. Just ewwww.
I change my sheets every week.
I launder the sheets as soon as they come off the bed.
I use clean sheets to remake the bed.
A few weeks ago I did notice baking flour on the stove when I went to the kitchen one morning. Flour. Yup. The kind you make cookies with. On the stove. At 4 a.m. It had not been cooked. There were no warm cookies. There was no sausage gravy. There was only white flour. I didn’t find any on my hands. I didn’t see flour footprints from the kitchen to my bedroom. I don’t wander and eat and even if I did who could eat dry baking flour?
I forgot about it.
Until I found crap in my bed.
I was going to be the one who had to clean the crap up, change the linens and then wash the crappy linens. I geared up for the assault. Mask. Gloves. Knife. Scissors. Air freshner. Plastic bags. I was ready.
I tried once again to pull the pillow free from the sheet. It moved.
This brown crap is the strangest I’ve dealt with, and having raised 2 sons, I’ve dealt with my share of crap.
It seems to remain attached to the sheet but allow the pillow to move away. In essence, it was stretching.
Farther, but never letting go of the sheet.
The stretchy part was more golden than brown.
No. I am not examining the crap, just commenting on what I see.
I took the knife and began to scrape the crap from the sheet. It was pretty solid and didn’t take a lot of work to remove.
I threw it in the plastic bag. I then went after the pillow where the crap now had a long umbilical tail where it had been attached to the sheet. It took more work, but I eventually got it free. I threw it in the plastic bag.
I picked up the pillow to remove the case to be washed.
I found a box of Milk Duds.
An open box of Milk Duds.
On the bed, under the pillow. And not an empty box.
Who’s been eating Milk Duds and in my bed?
Holy crap! The crap in the bed is a melted Milk Dud – or two, or three.
Could I have been eating them in my sleep? I do like them.
Could I have dropped one on the way from my hand to my mouth? I do drop things.
Could I have slept on it thus creating my own mess? Well, I am messy but I swear it’s only when I am awake.
Could I have done all of this and not realized what I was doing or had done?
Am I the midnight crapper in my own home?
Surely not me!
I swear, I don’t remember it, so it can’t be so.
From the life and mind of:
Wanda M. Argersinger
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