So, two evenings ago, Jaime and I made our way through the California countryside, completing the vacation portion of our trip and moving on to the family meet and greet portion. Its been a good time, just relaxing and getting to see the sights, and now to know all of these people who I’ve heard so much about. Putting faces to the names makes things a lot easier on my brain, when Jaime starts telling stories about her past or current happenings with her parents and siblings.
Being that her mother is quite conservative, we’ve been pretty low-key with physical contact with one another, minus a little hand-holding and leg patting. No PDA happening, but that’s cool with me, as the same rules pretty much apply when we’re at my parent’s place, too.
So, when she and I got caught breaking the bed, twice no less, there was some explaining to do as her mother walked into the room.
Just go reread that last statement again, because it does not say what you think it says.
Her parents don’t usually share the same bedroom, so her father has given up his bedroom to me for the few days that I am here. It used to be the baby room, so it still has trains painted on the walls, giving a nice fun atmosphere to the room. Well, at least that’s the theory anyway.
So, before Jaime went to bed last night, she came in to the room to say good-night. We sat there for a while, talking, just discussing the activities of the last few days. Shifting how she was sitting on the bed, moving away from the edge and more toward the center, Jaime caused a bit of a problem with the bed frame, the supporting wood under the box springs slid off the rails and deposited the two of us, along with the mattress and box spring to the floor.
Much laughter occurred, the two of us humored at what had just happened. The irony of the situation, both of us clothed and behaving ourselves, yet still noisily breaking the bed in her parents house, was just too much for either of us to believe.
We picked ourselves up from where the bed had deposited us and began the process of fixing the damage. The mattresses had plastic coverings, which made them really difficult to grasp and lift, but thankfully they were only twin sized and thus light. With me lifting, her holding them in place and them me rearranging the planks, we got the bed back together with minimal of damage, and that was only to the side of my left thumb, which was pinched between bed rail and slat, removing a layer of skin from the knuckle.
Our little adventure done, we sat back down on the bed, once again causing it to crash to the floor, this time knocking all of the wooden support to the floor, instead of just part of it as had happened before. Obviously there was something else wrong, other than just the supports sliding off the rails. Checking the frame, I found that the foot board posts were separating from the cross members, so I slammed them back together, making a louder, rhythmic thumping of the bed frame against the wall, bringing the attention of her mother.
Mom walked in, wondering what exactly was so funny about the bed crashing to the floor. We explained and she started laughing along with us, although not at the irony that so amused the two of us.
This time the bed repair caused splinters to be deposited into my left hand, but thankfully into the more calloused parts, making them easy to remove. The bed reassembled, I sat down, motioning for Jaime to join me there. She declined, despite seeing that it was definitely fixed this time, not wanting to chance another tumble to the floor. I guess she thought breaking the bed in her mother’s house, twice, was pushing her luck farther than it should be stretched.
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