It is a bad thing to be awaked by a scream in the middle of the night. You are quietly minding your own business, sleeping soundly, dreaming sweet dreams of chocolate cake and Cal Ripken, Jr. (don't judge), when all of a sudden your husband rises screaming from the bed. Why was El Hubbo screaming in the middle of the night? My question, exactly. As I tried in my muddled half-awake state to figure that out, while at the same time resisting the completely natural and primal reaction of eliminating the disturbance of my sleep from the face of the earth, I realized we were not alone in the bed. Jake had apparently joined us. And he was vomiting. In the middle of our bed. I was suddenly, very fully awake. Awake enough to realize that I was entirely too close to the scene of the crime and that a vacancy of the premises was in order. All men for themselves. And if you are six years of age and of the male persuasion and...
The always random, occasionally complex, often confounded commentary and narrative of one West Texas woman's life.