At least one weekend a month, the husband is away on a scout or work trip. A few weeks ago, his away weekend coincided with all of the children being on adventures of their own. Home alone with no transportation, I read all day and overindulged in the evening.

Instead of passing out like a normal person, I found myself in our old people bed with the foot and head raised from a day of book luxury. With no keeper, I was too wasted to find the remote to lower the bed for sleep.

I slept sideways in the bed, curled up so that my feet wouldn’t dangle over the edge for underbed monsters to eat. I woke stiff, uncomfortable and extremely confused as to why I was sleeping in a bed taco.

The remote sat on my side table. It laughed at me.