A Dry Run

I was trying to decide where I would sleep after I cam home from the knee replacement.  Our bedroom requires going up 12 steps, and some of the bannister was removed for aesthetic purposes.  On the plus side, the bathroom is close, the TV is stocked with DVR options, the reading light is good.   On the negative side:  Steve.  He isn’t snoring as much with his new weight loss, but he is a light sleeper.  He likes heavy covers and a tight tucked in feeling.  I will need to be unencumbered.  I am not sure we will be therapeutic for each other. More worrisome, however, are our suite mates:   the dogs.  The floor does not entice them.  They are used to sleeping King Size style,  leaping on and off the bed throughout the night.  Milly uses my rolling curves as her pillow.  I think that the bionic leg will not want to support a dog, even if it is a sprite like Milly.

 Last night Milly encouraged me to try out other venues for sleeping:  SHE WET THE BED.
milly sleeps.jpg
Milly sleeps upon a stripped and scrubbed mattress.  She seems oblivious to her mistake.  

This was not a small mishap.  I felt dampness on my feet at 4 am, and even half asleep, I could note that she had saturated the following linens:  A matelasse coverlet, duvet cover, down comforter, two sheets, a mattress pad and the mattress. I guess I should rejoice that she was not near a pillow.  I left Steve to his bone dry side of the bed after pulling off the corner linens and sopping up the moisture with an old towel.  Then I went wandering to try out other sleeping options at Casa Dahl.  Milly followed me downstairs, where I let her out to avoid any other accidents.  Then I began testing the various sleeping venues on the main floor. Staying here would save me the staircase, and would keep me from wrecking my lovely chair-railed staircase with new safety bannisters.  

First up:  sunroom sofa.  The room is happy, the back pillows come off, there is a TV and powder room close.  No stairs.  The bad news:  wraparound windows and a skylight make this room bright at 5am.  Would I look dumb sleeping in a mask?  Affirmative.  Also, this room has a ton of bird chirping to contend with.  No blinds or curtains to baffle the sound.  It also is the preferred exit for the dogs to do their business, so they will be underfoot.  Verdict: Not great for overnights, fine for the day.
Next:  My new living room sofa, in the front room.  The Good: The room has a TV, it is quiet and dark.  The dogs are electronically discouraged from coming in by an electric fence box.  The negative:  the back cushions on this sofa are attached.  It is skinny.  I am not.  It is so new that I would feel bad if I bled or oozed on it.  Verdict:  OK for lounging, but a little too exposed to the comings and goings of the Dahlcast clan.  
Final downstairs option:  family room couch.  The good:  back cushions detach, the room is dark, the color would blend with blood or gook, it is capable of being shut off from dogs and people.  It is next to the kitchen.  Has the best TV.  The bad:  far from the bathroom, and down a step.  Last night, I ended up here, after test driving all options.  I flipped the cushions off, reversed my directionality, and found a comfy way to sleep.  I think this will be my go-to perch, at least for a few days.
Maybe Milly was deliberate in her seepage.  She pushed me to plan ahead. However, I have wasted a day with a blur of laundry. My front-loader washer and dryer tumbles everything into a tight wet knot.  5 loads.  9 dryer cycles.  The lint screen is covered in feathers.  My comforter is sad and flat.  The duvet and coverlet await their drying cycle.  The bed is fresh but still naked.  If there is a repeat, young Mildred will return to her crate for overnights, a punishment that Mabel will revel in.  
My sleep accommodations will require just a blink of time, but I like to envision what my recovery will look like so I can prepare Nurse Steve.  It is my earnest hope that he will be happily sawing logs upstairs with his furry girls so that he has the energy to care for me. I would like to emerge from this adventure without scarring him.  I have not yet had the guts to drag my borrowed walker and toilet riser from the back of my car.  He didn’t sign on to care for an old chick.  And yet, he will.

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