I neglected to mention that my parents went to Bermuda last week. This is relevant for two reasons: firstly, The Wedding Date and I decided to avail ourselves of their bathtub while they were away. We didn’t do anything (honest; we lit some candles and watched a romantic comedy) but having recently written an article about bathing-for-two, I couldn’t resist the urge to give it a try.
My parents, you see, have a large tub. And even though The Wedding Day and I have attempted to squeeze ourselves in his normal-sized tub, we just can’t make it work. So I gave my parents’ bathroom a quick scrub on Monday morning, lit some candles and that was that.
Secondly, we decided (after three nights of vying for territory on my tiny little mattress) to move some furniture. For the past few years, I’ve had a full-sized mattress but the guest bedroom, which is really only used at New Years, has had a QUEEN. It’s only a difference of six inches but six inches might as well be six miles when you’re sleeping next to someone who has the coldest feet known to man.
So I orchestrated a little swap: my full-sized mattress for the queen-sized mattress in the guest room. I figured if I did it while my parents were away, they wouldn’t even notice. (And even if they did, they’d be too preoccupied with my grandmother’s imminent arrival to make me switch everything back.)
TWD was less than enthusiastic about my plan (he’s gotten this crazy idea that “my plans” are usually ill-conceived, impractical and at times even impossible) so I did most of it myself. When he heard me hauling mattresses across the floor, however, he came upstairs and sighed, “Nena…”
(Which is Spanish, in this context, for “What on earth are you doing?”)
We managed to finish the entire transaction in about fifteen minutes. And let me tell you: a queen-sized mattress is heaven.
In fact, I’m never going back.
When my parents arrived home Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t help but ask my mother if she noticed anything “different” on the third floor.
“Yes,” she said. “A few things. But mainly the bathtub. It’s so clean! Why was it…? Oh, wait… never mind. I don’t want to know.”
And this, dear readers, is just one of the many awkward moments that occur on a daily basis when you have six grownups living in the same house.
(Moral of the story: if you’re going to clean your parents’ bathtub, be sure to unclean it before they get back from Bermuda!)