Thursday, June 21, 2018

60 Days: The Hottie

It started out as a normal night. We went to bed together as we normally do.

But, my hottie split in the middle of the night. It was an extremely inconsiderate and bastard act. I don't think I'm very upset about this. What can you do? Hotties split. Good hotties are hard to find. I'm not sure that I want to go through the process of finding another.

Up until this time, I have loved my hottie through thick and thin. He's been there for me for years. He had his uses. He was good for soothing tired muscles and and keeping me warm well into the night. He was a comforting presence. Never obtrusive. Never needy.  He was always been the silent type. Good for coming out just before bed time, just as you need him to warm up the bed - just as all good hotties should.

Despite his outwardly daggy appearance and the knowledge that he's of a product of a bygone era, he's been my sleeping companion over winter for many years. Being of a certain age, I have little use for him in the warmer months and he was relegated to other parts of the flat during these times, only coming out if the need presents itself. He was great after the gym. Forgiving and understanding. My hottie had many and varied uses.

So last night, of all nights, my hottie splits, erupting in the most violent way possible, leaving me to sleep in a Pacific-sized wet patch, the likes I haven't seen since my twenties, back in the days when you sort of accepted that the price of a hottie was that you would inevitably get the wet patch on which you're expected to sleep.

Now, my hottie is gone. It was so sudden.

At first, I wasn't sure what was happening. The bed was cold and wet. And damp.

How dare he!

His mess extended through the bed linen and one two of my pillows.

This was so wrong! After years of sharing a bed with me, he goes and does this.

This is not the right way to break up with somebody. Where is his dignity? What sort of hottie does he think he is?

I managed to navigate to the edge of the bed, away from the mess that he left. Years of sleeping with a cat has meant I can take the 10% of the mattress on the edge and sleep quite soundly. I would deal with his explosive emissions in the morning. I was more peeved that my sleep had been disrupted.

A few hours later, I rose, bereft, angry and hurt that my hottie could leave me in such a fashion.

The bed was stripped of the damp linen. The pillows were placed near the heater to dry. The hairdryer was applied to the sodden mattress.

Like how do people manage with teenage sons? Seriously.

So my hottie is no more.

I've been told to replace him with a wheat bag, but I'm not quite there with that. I liked the texture of my old hottie. The smell of rubber is quite soothing. Besides, I had a wheat bag once. A mouse ate it.
I'm not sure a wheat bag can replace a hottie. They're not the same thing.

My hottie has gone.

I supposed I will find another. Hopefully he will be a bit more reliable and not leave me in the lurch like this.

And until the mattress dries, I'll be sleeping on the couch.

Oh, you did realise I was talking about my hot water bottle, didn't you?

Today's Song:

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