Grounded

Sweet Jesus, once again, after 26 years, I'm sleeping on the floor! Okay, I've found myself occasionally on the floor (or the ground) in the past 26 years, but this is different. In a fit of house cleaning, Gene and I gave away our bed to someone on Freecycle, which is a great place to get rid of stuff you don't feel like hauling to Goodwill. The bed had seen better days. The bed had seen... It was a dust collector. It had scratches all over it from the dogs. It was our comfort zone and it was failing and it was time for it to go. We took it apart to clean it and couldn't bring ourselves to put it back together again. Humpty Dumpty. Oh, the fall! It was a little disconcerting to see it drive away. Someone else touching the family headboard! Someone else... So now we have a mattress resting on the floor and we're waiting for the arrival of some sort of metal frame. Hurry, Mr. UPS! I have new hypoallergenic pillows and sheets and a fine, hypoallergenic mattress cover, but I can't put them on when the mattress is on the floor! A dust mite might sneak over and attack. A whole army of dust mites. I can see it now. A fierce battle and the downfall of our dreams. Nuclear war. The end of civilization.

But that isn't really what I wanted to talk about. I really wanted to say I enjoyed How A Poem Happens this morning. But somehow I got distracted.