Tuesday, May 22, 2012
That's right. The Disabled Guy was attacked last night. Don't worry, he's fine... just a little traumatized.
I was awakened in the middle of the night by some clambering noises and DG violently moving in bed. I sorta looked over and determined he wasn't having a seizure and I promptly went back to sleep. This morning, I was given the grave news.
It seems that the big comforter that he usually keeps on the bed year-round was too much for him. Days ago, he folded it (somewhat) and put it on top of the clothes on a table near his side of the bed. I've been in a state of flux for several years and there are days I can wear clothes and days I can't wear them. So I don't have space to put everything away. So, that giant, thick comforter was on top of the rotation of clothes.
In the middle of the night, it decided it had just about enough of not being on the bed anymore and it came at DG with a pair of scissors and some Scotch tape dispensers (the clambering noise that woke me).
DG: "The damn thing just jumped on my head! I struggled with it, I put up a good fight, but it nearly took me! I almost died!"
Me: "From a comforter sliding onto your head from a few inches away?"
DG: "Yes! Don't you know that those things are deadly!?"
Me: "You're saying your blankets attacked you again?"
DG *somewhat sarcastically*: "No, not my blankets. They didn't even try to help me. The quilt thing. That thing [he pointed at the folded comforter]... the comfer- comfortable- no, that's not it. Comforter! The comfortable attacked me!"
Me: "Wow. If it attacked you, it couldn't have been very comfortable."
DG: "Are you being sarcastic?"
Me: *eyes wide*: "No, of course not."
DG: *squinting his eyes*: "I think you are."
Me: "Watch out, there's a disgruntled blanket behind you."
DG: "Please. Blankets can't be disgruntled."
Me: "Do you know what disgruntled means?"
DG: "Of course I do, but why don't you tell me so I know that you know."
He's nothing if not a smartass.