Hard on the Housekeeper

It was quiet and still just like all mornings before daylight. The first cool weather of fall had crept in the evening before, and Cap always liked that first "light jacket morning". He woke up every morning before daylight, no alarm needed. He kept one set though, just for the rare occurrence that he might oversleep. He never seemed to need it though.

He opened his eyes and laid still for a minute just listening. This was his custom. He stirred just a bit and noticed something he had never before. Grit. Surely not. He and Martha had been married for 37 years and she had always kept the house clean, almost to a fault. He had been scolded many times for coming in with clothes or boots that left their marks on whatever they touched. He was trained to do better after those first few years he thought. Martha might view him as a work still in progress. But this was different.

He rolled over and Martha was still asleep. When he rolled he felt it even more. Grit. He tried not to overreact. Everyone slips a little now and then. He should cut her some slack. The more he thought about it in those few moments, the madder he got. He couldn't let it go.

He got out of bed and pulled the sheets back on his side. The room was still dark, and with loud and over-exaggerated strokes he brushed whatever grit was in the bed out. He was making a commotion and trying to make a point. Martha woke up.

"What are you doing?" she asked eyes still not completely focused.

"There's something in this bed woman." he answered. "You must not've washed these bed clothes this week. Here I am sleepin' and tryin' to rest so I can go make you a livin' and you got me sleepin' in a dirty bed."

By this time Martha was wide awake. She was not about to sit still and let her house cleaning be criticized this early in the morning. "It's not my fault" she said almost too calmly. This should have been a red flag for Cap. He plowed on anyway.

"Heck it ain't. I woke up this morning and felt like I was sleepin' on the floor of the tack room. There's some kind of grit in here with me." He was still brushing the bed with his hand.

"Turn on the lamp and you'll see the problem" said Martha.

Cap turned on the bedside lamp and noticed that this grit was somewhat familiar. As he studied it trying to make a determination as to its genesis, Martha cut the slack out of the problem for him. She was good at that.

"YOU woke up in your sleep last night and went to the kitchen. I felt you get up. I also felt you return with a handful of those cookies I made for Ely's birthday two days ago. Then YOU fell back asleep before you ate them all and crushed the rest of them while you tossed and turned like you always do. So the problem is not with my clean house, it's with the night-time-cookie-eater who lives here and then doesn't eat all the cookies during his sleep walking, rather chooses to roll on them all night."

Cap stood there next to the bed and looked at her. She was mad. He didn't seem to be mad anymore. He pulled the covers back over the bed and headed to the bathroom to run some bath water. Martha laid back down. As the water ran in the bathroom, Cap returned to the bedroom and leaned down over her as she was trying to go back to sleep.

"I'm sorry honey, but you know I like those cookies." He paused, then added," I'm just sayin' I like'em to be a little chewy and if they hadn't been so dry maybe they wouldn't have got crushed up so bad."

She groaned. He ran.


have a good weekend,
Walker