J and I switched sides of the bed a few weeks ago. Our bedroom is t-tiny and the space between the bed and the dresser was starting to become a tight squeeze for me. Besides, his side had a straight shot to the bathroom which was An Issue. We had been sleeping on the same side of the bed for our entire time together--regardless of the room orientation--so switching had some rough patches. Namely, he still fucking tries to sleep on this side and just push me off. He now bangs into the furniture the way I used to. And well, my alarm clock is on his side. One of the joys (!) of an old house is that there are about three outlets in the whole place. We have surge protectors and power strips everywhere but for modern, electric gadget people this is tough. So the alarm clock is on his new side. And I get up like three hours before he does. And he cannot fucking figure out the clock. He always ends up turning on the radio or throwing it. So the current solution is that I lean over him and turn it off (this means there is no snooze button which means I often just go back to sleep but you know . . .we all do our best).
This morning I leaned over and basically . . .well crushed his face with my belly. Because the pregnant belly has no give.
Why do I feel like if he gets a black eye that fucking story will get told over and over until I rip my own face off?
In other news my lap top is off being repaired but sadly the Sony center is right in the middle of those damn fires. I know these fires are tragic for many reasons that are much more important than my computer but I DON'T CARE BRING BACK MY PRECIOUSSSSSSSSS.