Have you ever tried brushing your teeth with your off hand?
It’s like having sudden onset of localized palsy. You’re an absolute surgeon with the dominant hand. You’re conducting a dramatic tooth symphony with that hand. You’re thorough, you’re assertive, you’re a genius. With the off hand, you’re worse than a toddler. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing, and whatever it is, it’s wrong, it’s slow, and you feel like an idiot. Try it sometime, it’s crazy fun.
I suppose the living equivalent of brushing your teeth with your off hand is trying to get used to a new house. Prodigies in your old house, total mongoloids in the new one. What am I talking about? I’m sure there will be more posts like this to come, but for now let’s focus on that which is so important to give you fuel for your continued journey of unpacking.
I am a deep sleeper. I’d have to be given how loud my snoring can be. I’ve got an absolute chainsaw of a snore, which, granted, has gotten better as I’ve lost weight. If I’ve been drinking, my snore will capsize any nearby boats and drop helicopters out of the sky. Ask Jason or Keith what it’s like to share a room with me during trips to Vegas or Buena Vista, CO, and you’ll get unhappy looks about a shitty night’s sleep. I feel particularly bad about Keith’s bachelor party because that poor schmuck could have used some sleep after playing Asshole well into the night and throwing up on his loafers. That’s why from here on out I’m sharing my hotel rooms with Jamie who could sleep peacefully while Dragonfoce played “Through the Fire and Flames” at point blank range right in his face. It’s wonderful.
When I’m at home, I like to face toward the middle. So does Kristin. That results in us facing each other and me snoring right in her face. She loves that. Hoping to put an end to that, we decided to switch sides when we moved into the new house. As soon as I laid down, I knew it was a mistake. Nothing felt right. I felt alternately like I was sleeping in a mirror universe (I should have grown a goatee), or in a burlap sack. WHY IS EVERYTHING BACKWARDS?
I slept like complete ass two nights straight, but wanted to make the experiment work. The ironic thing about it is that I could no longer fall asleep on my left side, which now faced away from Kristin. I ended up turning toward the middle anyway, which totally defied the purpose. The funny thing was, so did Kristin. I’m not sure if I can’t stand what my arm does when it’s near the bed’s edge or if I just like facing my wife. I don’t particularly care, but I do know that I hated this fucking side of the bed with all my guts.
I took some comfort in knowing that no matter how much I hated this new arrangement, the cats hated it one hundred fold worse. They have routines as much as anyone, and Kristin is much more permissive about where they can go during the night. Me? I’m a furnace at night, so I end up kicking the covers off several times throughout the night. Since I was now on Kristin’s side, the cats went about their nightly routine of trying to sleep up on my head and down between my legs. I woke up caked in sweat like I was filming a Gatorade commercial and punted the two little bed hoarding bitches off of me.
I woke up the next morning unhappy from another night of crappy slumber. Kristin woke up shortly thereafter. “How did you sleep?” I asked.
“Shitty. I hate this side. Do you want to trade back?”
“FUCK AND YES, I do. Thank God!” I high fived her, and we swapped the items out of our nightstands, switched the pillows, and never looked back.
I’m back where I belong, she’s back where she belongs, and the two little bed hoarding bitches are back where they belong.
Sometimes it’s fun to try brushing your teeth with the off hand, but no one in their right mind does it that way forever. Don’t mess with your sleep, people.