The night before last I slept like a rock. Straight through, no chases. It was beautiful, unadulterated sleep. A rare thing around these parts. I slept so good, I didn’t get up until 8:20, which is slightly unusual for me. Typically I am up by 8, but this morning I slept in.
From firm sleep the rest of the morning was lazy as well. In general I am a get showered and dressed as soon as I get up kind of guy. I don’t like laying around in my own filth. I feel better after a shower. I feel ready for the day when I am cleaned and dressed. I have to admit China has made me a little lax in this regard. Not having a job to go to in the morning most days has allowed me to spend a little time lounging around in the morning before I get clean.
Still, I am typically showered and ready for the day by nine o’clock.
This morning that I am discussing, things got a little weird. The Bates’ recently let me borrow the HBO television series Six Feet Under, and as Amy has no desire to see it, I have been pretty steadily making my way through.
Well, this particular morning I decided to finish an episode that I had started the previous night before I got ready for the day. As there wasn’t much left of that episode I decided to watch the next episode too. Then that episode turned out to be a real page turner and I just couldn’t see what happened in the next episode.
Then the phone rang. It was my wife. My hungry wife, ready for luch.
“Is it lunch time already?” I asked.
I was still in my pajamas.
I felt way to silly to actually tell her this so I stalled. I batted around where we’d like to eat and glanced in the fridge to see if there was anything I could fix here to keep me from going home. Fate was in my corner and the phone went dead. I looked at myself in the mirror hoping I looked decent enough to go out. I didn’t. The face was still splotchy, the hair greasy and I kind of stunk.
I looked for my cap, but I’m not even sure if I brought it to China. I then called her back thinking maybe I could choose a restaurant where the food might take a minute. That way I could give the wife some excuse why I’d be late and let her order.
We didn’t get but a sentence into the call when it died again. I called one more time and this time no connection came at all. This time I stripped and dashed into the shower. I kept the phone nearby so that I could answer if she called and washed faster than any man has washed before.
I skipped the shaving and was out in less than five minutes. I dressed just as fast, and called again. This time it went through and we decided on where to eat.
I met her and she was none the wiser. Of course I spilled my guts within about two minutes of sitting with her. I just can’t keep secrets from my wife. Not ones so stupid anyways.