A couple of weeks ago we were sound asleep, it was 2am and all of a sudden hubby lets out this bloodcurdling scream, a horrific guttural sound I had never heard him utter before. He jumps out of bed and throws something, I bolt upright in a panic, Maggie is barking her little Yorkie head off, and I’m trying to clear my head enough to find out what’s going on.
He turns on the light, and he had thrown a fern across the room. Our cleaning lady had been there that morning, apparently dusted the shelf above the bed and the fern had been teetering precariously on the edge, and the fan from the furnace was just enough to give it flight, right on the top of LC’s face when he was soundly sleeping. It’s a wonder the man didn’t have a heart attack!
The fern is just thrown back upon the shelf, I think poor hubby wants nothing to do with it, and I haven’t suggested he tuck it behind the clock, poor man, I was so unnerved, I can’t imagine having something scratchy fall on your face in the middle of the night. He must have thought he had a squirrel or worse attacking him. I know it scared the beejus out of me when I heard him yelling.
Oh, we really need to do something about that shelf, take it down, put something else in it’s place. He has glued Liquid Nail to the brackets on the wall, because I worry about the whole thing tumbling down on us, so it’s a major redo when we take it down, but we really need to figure something else out.. We’re just too old for all this excitement in bed!
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