My Husband got Lost in a Closet
April 7th, 2008SATURDAY NIGHT, CONDON, ORE.
It’s very late and very dark. I’m asleep because that’s what I do often when it’s very late and dark, in our hotel room in Condon.
Off to the side of the bed I suddenly start hearing some shambling, scuffling noises. Then some exhalations of exasperation and then a timid, persistent thumping, hollowly, the sound of pummeled wallboard. Somewhere in the wilds of our room, David is tumultuously afoot.
Gruffly, me: “What are you doing?” No answer immediately. More low, impact noises. Then a clattering of hangers and a low, guttural, braying sound of despair.
“What are you doing?”
A pause. A slight crash. “The doorknob’s off…I can’t find it…did it fall out?” A confused Mr. Pencil. His voice is muffled by a bathrobe.
“David? Are you trying to get to the bathroom?”
“Mmmmm.” Patting up and down the wall, looking for a door that very much wasn’t there.
“You’re in the closet. What are you–I’m so confused.”
It seemed pretty funny the following morning. Don’t worry, he did eventually find the bathroom.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:38 am
As someone who will say or do anything to be left alone if someone wakes me up in the middle of the night, I can totally relate. The best part is that his first assumption was that the door knob was missing.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:46 am
Hahaha….oh silly Mr. Pencil.
Just be glad there wasn’t a crazed husband with a gun, a midget, a policeman, a southern belle, a mobster, and a prostitute there too…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FCXlCkY4Y5g