He promised this wouldn’t happen. I spoke lightly about it never happening. But he’s moved in with all his sh-t, anyhoo! And he’s traded out my luscious lumpy mattress, tossed it down the two flights of stairs, where it’s leaning up against my trash cans.
I’m so embarrassed. His special fancy mattress is still in the bed of his truck and it’s dark outside. He’s on his third highball and I’m afraid he’s not going back down those stairs tonight.
So, here I am in the bathroom writing to you with the Big Question: What the heck have I done?
Fool Hardy in Crestline
Dear Fool Hardy,
Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat, don’t you people mind my weekly sarcastic advice? Am I writing in the wind? I’m sure we’ve been over this before, multiple times.
To my old-fashioned way of thinking, a relationship is doomed from the start when both parties bring in dogs, cats, mattresses, car parts, kids, goldfish and baggage. Half a century ago marriages got off on an even keel when nobody had nothin’ and those marriages lasted at least a good 10 years. Heck, the turntable they purchased was set on plywood over bricks. Then they started collecting stuff – furniture, cars and kids – so when they broke up, they had something to fight over, I suppose.
I assume that you are not married to the mattress, so to speak. Before he spends another night there and begins talking about squatter’s rights, you got to make up your mind if being a bit lonely is a better deal all around. God bless you. He does have a plan for you, you know.
Sidney
Send your questions for Sidney to Sidney@thealpinemountaineer.com or by snail mail to Dear Sidney, The Alpine Mountaineer, P.O. Box 4572, Crestline, CA 92325.
This advice is intended for entertainment purposes only. No animals were harmed in the writing of this column.
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