Beds, Fireworks & Words Mean Things

Ever since I heard of “Murphy Beds” I have wanted one. They were the original fold up bed. Sort of like a sofa bed without the sofa.  They were designed for people with small houses or apartments about 100 years ago.  The concept just makes sense. You don’t have to make it up – just fold it up.

So this weekend I went to my brother’s yard sale. There was a Murphy Bed. I was so surprised I didn’t recognize it for what it was.  There was also a tanning bed and a set of bunk beds. Although I am a big fan of beds, not so much tanning beds and water beds.

Long story short, I ended up with all the beds and some other stuff. The Murphy because I always wanted one and the tanning bed because my brother wanted to get rid of it and the bunks because, why not.

What I didn’t take into account was that it would have been easier to move a full water bed than either of them.  Is having either one worth getting a hernia?

I’m somewhat concerned. Years ago I decided we had all of the beds we need and the only beds I would get were on the back of a truck.

I’m not sure exactly what happened.  I must have had some sort of mental lapse, a lapse in my synapsis. At least I can lay on them until my hernia heals.

Speaking of my synapses, I had a doctor’s appointment last week to have my brain scanned again.  As I have said before, it turns out that all of you were correct. There actually is something in my head that doesn’t belong there and isn’t in most heads.  It was time to get my little brain tumor Seymour measured again.

I’m not really concerned with Seymour   Hmm, I wonder if Seymour wanted the Murphy Bed.  My theory is that Seymour may have been there for years and I’m not getting him removed unless he starts causing me trouble.

My theory is there are three possibilities. Seymour may not cause any problems so he can stay. I can have him removed and kill him or he can kill me. In that case I am going to take him with me. In all three cases I win, Seymour loses.

So Seymour and I went for his annual measurement. The neurosurgeon thinks he may have grown a little bit. I’m a little concerned. He “thinks” Seymour may have grown a little bit?  I thought this was going to be something precise, like measuring a baby.  Seymour has grown X amount.

My only real objection to Seymour is the doctor says he is benign but that if he grows he will cause problems. Benign means nothing but good things. Benign things don’t try to kill you.  I think they need to find a more accurate term rather than calling them “benign.” After all words mean things.

That being said I do admit to playing word games with people. For example, people ask me how many children I have. A simple question with a simple answer.

However, people often misinterpret simple answers.

Occasionally when someone asks me how many children we have I respond, “My first wife and I have three. My wife and I have three. My last fiancé and I have three. My ex-girlfriend and I have three.”

Many people miscount that and come up with a dozen children.

They somehow fail to take into account that my bride Management is my first wife, my current wife, my ex-girlfriend, my last fiancé.

Commas would have made that 12 children. Periods make it three.

Punctuation is important. I know of many cases where missing a period has resulted in a life sentence.

It gets more confusing when you consider that we didn’t have our children in the usual order. Our oldest child came last.

He was born when Management was 15 and I was 25 years old.

Get your mind out of the gutter. There are more than one way to add children. Besides I didn’t even meet Management until she was 19 years old and our first child was born after we were married.

I did not “rob the cradle;” all of this was her idea, which I am certain she has at least occasionally regretted. If anything, she robbed the “old folk’s home.”

I, on the other hand, have no regrets. Management was and still is the greatest blessing in my life.