The other night I woke up in the middle of the night absolutely PARCHED (could it have been all that coffee and champagne?) In my late-night 10:30 PM stupor into bed, it seemed I had forgotten to bring a glass of water with me. I woke Chris and asked if I could have some of his water, but of course he hadn’t brought any upstairs either.
I laid there wondering what to do – there was no way I was going to walk downstairs alone to get water. I mean, there are boogey-men downstairs at night, right? So, I did what any independent girl would do: I tried to bribe Chris by saying I’d pay him ten dollars if he went downstairs and got me some water.
What’s funny about this is that I didn’t even HAVE ten dollars to give him. Hell, I didn’t even have ONE dollar in my wallet; I think I had about four cents (I’m not kidding, sadly.) Not to mention the whole joint-checking account business AND the fact that I don’t actually have a money-earning job…Well, you do the math.
Understandably, Chris declined my generous offer and told me to go drink from the bathroom sink. Which is kind of gross, yes, but dude, the boogey-man lives downstairs.
Hahaha. It took me TWO YEARS to be comfortable with going downstairs in the middle of the night. It was only once Rocco was sleeping down there (and not in our bedroom anymore) that I felt ok with it. Its like, if Rocco is down there, I’m ok. Not that he would do anything other than want the boogie man to play with him… but still, it helps.
Okay, I don’t feel so bad, then! What is it about going downstairs at night that is so terrifying? I was FINE in San Diego and lived in an apartment with far less locks and in an iffy neighborhood.
I like that Rocco is your watchdog, by the way 😉