How on earth is a man supposed to sleep with a clock ticking two foot from his ear and a nightlight shining in his barely closed eyes? That is the question of the day or night, and I am not a rested feller today. We spent the night with our female offspring, and there is plenty to say about the episode.
I am not complaining about the sincere and perfectly charming treatment afforded us and the more than adequate supper laid out for our delight last evening. The biscuits were almost as good as my close relative makes and the gravy was smooth as silk. Lemon pie was for dessert and I wanted another slab, but I couldn't possibly hold another bite! So you see, all was going well.
We had our headquarters treated for bugs. You are advised to leave and be gone overnight so the deadly aroma can do its job, and we thought we would just stay a few miles away and be close to chores and, of course, some of the grands. We were invited and sorta begged, so the decision was mutual and I was plumb tickled about the deal.
The guest room has a nice bed that is about four foot off the floor. If you fall out, you are probably going to break some old brittle bone in an old body. I found it to be soft and cushy, so it was fine after climbing up to get into it. The air conditioner was working and all seemed just about perfect.
I took a shower. That is a statement, because it was a little difficult to find all the stuff. The wash rags and towels were located at last, and then the stuff to wash with was called body wash. I put some on my rag, tried to raise some suds and it just was not the same as a bar of soap. I hollered until my close relative brought me a bar of hand soap. There was a squeegee hanging there and I was instructed to wipe the walls of the shower down with it to prevent the soap scum from forming. I didn't use it, just took my used towel and dried it all off.
I read the newspaper while my close relative showered and then we turned out the lights, a lamp on both sides of the bed. I was carefully arranged in my usual position for the sleep to hit when I realized there was a loud noise close to my head. It sounded like a bomb ticking or what I imagine a bomb ticking would sound like.
I flipped on my side lamp and discovered a clock hanging on the wall tick-tocking away the seconds. My close relative told me to ignore it. Then I tried to figure out where the bright light was coming from and was informed it was a night light to keep me from fracturing myself when I arose during the night for that trip I make nightly. Well, I cannot sleep with a hundred watt bulb on in the hallway. No, there were no little night lights like at our house to be had. So just hush and go to sleep. By this time, I had slid clear off the bed and pulled most of the cover with me.
Accidents happen, I did not mean to jerk the covers and no way did I mean to stomp loud enough to wake up a grand as I marched into the hall to turn off the search light. Well, thank goodness, it is over now, all but the misery of being tired.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, home is the most wonderful place to be. It can be a little shanty or a big, fine palace type but, if it is yours, it's pretty great. I love the sweet invitation and the sweet treatment, but it was not home and I need home!
I don't enjoy hotels and, yet, I'd rather stay in one than at another's home. It just was not easy and I am sorry I am so hard to please. But, one thing for sure, I sure do love home!
All's well that ends well, we swept up a large supply of dead spiders! I hope there are dead beasts under the house, too!
Bill is the pen name of the Gravette-area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 07/01/2015