My Sideways Bed: Part 2: My New Duet Partner

So my Boyfriend (“B”) and I decided to move in together about a year ago. We found a perfect house with lots of character and in a really great location. What happiness! I will call this house First House.

Then we decided that we wanted to save money and we somehow convinced his parents to let their grownass child and his grownass girlfriend move into their house. This is our story.cute-house-clipart-cute_orange_two_story_house

Part 2

B’s parents adopted a rescue dog from Labrador last year. I will call him T. T is an entirely beautiful pup. He has silky fur and a fluffy tail and a big smiley face. His eyes even have perfect black outlines as if he had gone to the doggy salon and had eyeliner applied by a doggy makeup professional.

T is also kind of a jerk. He doesn’t try to be but that doesn’t change that yesterday when I was vacuuming in the bathroom (I couldn’t find the Swiffer…whatever) when I turned my back for a moment he managed to get into the garbage can after which he delicately scattered tissues all over the house where I had just finished vacuuming.

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A very handsome guy indeed!

And he thinks everything is food. Your toys aren’t food. Grass isn’t food. The cream that I just put on my legs isn’t food. Only your food is Food.

And he doesn’t play fetch which is maddening because that game is SO LITTLE EFFORT FOR SUCH CONSISTENT REWARD. He only plays keepaway and I am not going into the garden with you and chasing you for 20 minutes. I’m not.

He’s not a jerk like Joffrey he’s more of a jerk like Draco who is really just a harmless minionfollowing mom and dad’s orders and is going to cry at the end of the series instead of following through. You know…he’s kind of just an innocent do do.

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A little bit of a dingleberry all the same.

But regardless, T has his good qualities like being an excellent walking companion, making me feel very loved, and barking at intruders who could be murderers or thieves or bearded men.

I am getting ready for a recital of opera and art song in July. So, when we moved into B’s parents’ house, we put my keyboard in the living room. B’s parents were off on a grand adventure in Europe so keeping the keyboard in the open and practicing there seemed like a great idea. So, the living room became my Practice Room.

I have a regular practice schedule of a first practice in the morning before work and a second round at lunch or in the evening. Not long after moving in, B was gone and I decided it was a perfect time to practice. I gathered my books and meandered into the Practice Room and started doing lip buzzing to gently warm up my vocal chords. You know what I’m talking about – that sound like you’re driving a dinky car.

From there, I started doing ascending and descending fourths. Just a nice, calm way to get the vocal chords and the mind ready to work.

Then, I turned to the octave and the fourth, so that if you start singing from middle C, you end up at the F an octave above that.

The Practice Room was getting progressively noisier and louder. T was staring at me like I was either a terrifying bearded man or a precious queen from heaven. He cocked his head and then let out…a Howl.

Now, I mentioned above that T is from Labrador and allegedly he has a bit of wolf in him. In case there was ever a question of whether that was true, I think I can definitely answer that yes. This is true. T is actually a wolf hiding in a beautiful, German shepherd looking dog body.

T’s Howl was not like normal dogs howls. This Howl was equal parts enormous and despondent. This Howl was like a trumpeting series of thunder crashes announcing the End of Days.

I stopped for a minute thinking oh maybe he just wanted one go at it. He stopped. I picked back up. He Howled depressing, reverberating Howls. I went over and comforted him,”oh don’t worry T, here let me pet you, please shut up, I’ll give you a belly rub and a treat”.

I was not really in a position to not be practicing at this point. The recital was rapidly approaching and if I was going to get both sessions in that day, it had to happen here. And now.

I know! I think to myself. I’ll put T Outdoors.

I mean…which sweet dog doesn’t love regular outdoors, let alone T’s Outdoors? T’s Outdoors has a little pond at the end, a vast area to play and jump, and lots of room to do whatever T does when we aren’t trying and failing to teach him fetch. Outdoors is best.

I got T Outdoors. I closed the door, and with a self satisfied smile headed back to the Practice Room.

I picked up where I left off and things were going pretty good. The voice was moving,  it was open and spinning and…

Howl.

T was Outdoors far from the Practice Room and somehow all he can do is Howl. From the neighbour’s point of view, you have this poor beautiful dog outside Howling bloody murder in the backyard for 30 whole minutes. And don’t be mistaken – the Howling isn’t cute. The Howling sounds like T was tortured, maimed, or forced to spend time with a bearded man and is crying for help.

I carried on because WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place where I could either stop and let T and the Howling win, or I could push on through. I did. I pushed on through.

From the sounds of things, while I sang the extremely dramatic and loud coloratura and high Cs from Meyerbeer’s “Nobles Seignuers, Salut” while T was in the back yard outdoing my efforts by Howling the Queen of the Night’s high Fs.

I worked on Carmen’s “Habanera” and while I came down through the smooth chromatic lines I heard the sound of the Howls, like T was being chased by a White Walker.

I moved into the simplicity of some Poulenc art song and T is like “HONESTLY EFF THIS BORING NONSENSE” and Howled like the diva he is disappointed that I am not.

So outside B’s parents’ house was the sounds of a dog Howling like a maniac who is trying to escape a hostage situation and inside B’s parents’ house was the sounds of a crazy woman singing opera like WHAT I CAN’T HEAR YOU and inside my body I was tense and thinking – on repeat – my hobby is so relaxing and so fulfilling and I have made all the right decisions in life,  my hobby is so relaxing and so fulfilling and I have made all the right decisions in life,  my hobby is so relaxing and so fulfilling and I have made all the right decisions in life, my hobby is…

Part 3: The Need Arises for Me to Barbeque is coming soon.

My Sideways Bed: Part 1: My Bed is Literally Sideways

cute-house-clipart-cute_orange_two_story_houseSo my Boyfriend (“B”) and I decided to move in together about a year ago. We found a perfect house with lots of character and in a really great location. What happiness! I will call this house First House.

Then we decided that we wanted to save money and we somehow convinced his parents to let their grownass child and his grownass girlfriend move into their house. This is our story.

Part 1

We emptied our house by first selling a bunch of stuff on Kijiji because who doesn’t want someone else’s crap? Our experience has been that all people want all the crap so things have been going pretty good with respect to B’s semi-entrepreneurial, buy-and-sell spirit.  After we had sold a number of things we were feeling pretty good about ourselves. Downsizing! Shaking off the cobwebs of First House! Onward and upward into the land of Hardly Any Financial Obligations!

Apparently it did not really matter that B had made such efforts with his Kijiji side job because by the time we actually moved from First House to B’s parents’ house, we were surrounded by Stuff. I don’t know what exactly the Stuff is, but there is a lot of stuff in our Stuff.

Our Stuff was all put into the Basement. The Basement is a normal basement, with a normal amount of room available when people think that their grown-ass children are going to carry on in their grown-assery. They didn’t know we were going to come knocking on their door begging for cheap rent, weeping about the weight of my student loans and the nervous breakdown I was going to have unless I found a way to save some money.

So our Stuff is in the Basement. In the left-hand side of the Basement are two twin beds. B and I thought the best thing to do would be to push the beds together to make one Big Bed. The beds were pushed together and lo and behold they’re not quite the same height. This is ok. The Big Bed was formed and all was well in the Basement where we had the Big Bed and our Stuff.

Part of our Stuff that I forgot about is all my Clothes, and I just want to say right here on the record: screw you, Emily. Screw you and your materialistic ways. All those shirts you thought were so pretty during law school are actually just stupid. I sat on the Big Bed on Day 1 and I was surrounded by our Stuff and my Clothes, which predominantly comprises roughly 316 shirts.

We had decided the best thing to do was wash all our laundry before moving to B’s parents’ house. But we apparently also decided not to fold it in advance because it would be better to have all the clothes separate and wrinkly so that when we got to B’s parents’ house we could fold it all because that is the best housewarming gift of all. Folding 316 shirts.

Before we started with the folding we thought, let’s put the mattress on the slightly uneven Big Bed. We have a really great mattress and what makes it even better is the memory foam! A piece of heavenly green super foam that was prepared by God and sent to earth. I just knew that with the powers of the mattress and the memory foam combined, the slightly uneven Big Bed would be just fine. Better than fine. Perfect.

Together we struggled, B and me – bendy from yoga but apparently overall just completely weak – awkwardly to get the mattress onto Big Bed. We accidentally put the mattress on sideways and we were laughed, like oh how silly! It needs to go the other way!

Off the mattress came, with B and bendy, but pathetic, me, clumsily maneuvering the thing. We turned it to put the mattress on the right way and…the bottom end was hanging out over the end of Big Bed’s footboard. The mattress did not fit. No amount of manipulation worked, no amount of pushing and pressing and praying worked. The mattress did not fit.

We turned the mattress and placed it in between the headboard and the footboard of the Big Bed so that  our bodies would lie parallel to the headboard and the footboard and our heads would be on the slightly higher part and our feet would be on the slightly lower part and to the left is an empty space of box spring we call “No Mans’ Land” where one can put a cup of water or some folded laundry if one needs to do so.

So I sat on the Big Bed, feet resting in No Mans’ Land surrounded by my 316 shirts all of which needed folding, Interstellar playing in the background because it’s my favourite movie and it calms me. I looked around the Basement, glancing at our Stuff which was just everywhere and thought to myself, as I folded yet another of my stupid shirts, “I think I’m a crazy person having a lucid moment”.

Stay tuned. Part 2: A New Duet Partner will be here soon.