By Harvey Tobkes

I think many married couples are just like us.

It just seems that the best place to have any real conversation is in bed just after you turn out the lights.

The Sleeping Lady

Our conversation usually varies from serious, humorous, finances, the children, just rehashing something or whatever.

Let me tell you what happened many years ago, but we still laugh about it:

Anita said she was going to bed and I said I want to watch the beginning of the 11 o’clock news and that I would be going to bed in a little while.

After only 10 minutes of killings, murder, rape, drug busts and car accidents, I had it, so I shut the TV. I headed for my bed to get a good night’s sleep, and walked into a pitch dark bedroom, as Anita had already turned off the lights. I got into my bed, I arranged my soft pillow under my head just the way I like it, and began talking.

We were in a conversation with lights out and I was discussing something that happened at work that day that aggravated me. I was ranting, raving, and venting.

Unbeknown to me, and just a little while before I even entered the room Anita was thinking about her day at work, (she was manager of a ladies apparel shop). I must add that she is cautious to an extreme, and does not like to take any chances. So, when Anita remembered that she left the store’s receipts of the day in the trunk of her car, which fortunately was parked very close to our villa, she bolted out of the bed and did a 4.3 second, 40-yard dash to her car in her nightgown.

So now, I was all comfy-cozy, and I had just about come to the end of my diatribe, and even starting to feel a little sleepy, but then I got a bit of an urge to urinate, so I got up and went to the bathroom but somehow I saw that the front door was unlocked. I was a little miffed, as Anita, most times handles that chore because I goofed a many times and failed to lock up. All tasks completed, I went traipsing back to the dark bedroom and said to Anita (who was not in the bed), “Sweetie, you tell me I always leave the front door unlocked, this time you forgot to lock it.”

When all of a sudden, there was something or someone banging on the front door; it sounded like they were using a 20-pound sledgehammer.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I said to Anita (who was not in the bed), “Who the F… is that this late at night?” I jumped out of bed wearing only my jockey shorts, and I was not about to open for a maniac, so I peeped through the peephole, and who was out there in her nightie, yes, my beautiful Anita. I was still in shock, so I was talking through the closed door when I exclaimed, “What the hell are you doing out there? I have been talking to you in the bed for the last 10 minutes.”

She was hysterical and hit a C above high C, shouting, open the goddamned door!

We finally got back to bed and when we rehashed it all…we laughed till daylight!


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