Plunged Into The Icy Depths

I love my husband. He is a wonderfully thoughtful man with a huge reserve of patience. Let's face it, any man who is willing to commit his love and life to that of a stubborn, feisty, and often times erratic redhead is going to need HUGE reserves of patience. Having said that, it is time I tell you, my dearly devoted, of the grievous error he committed not once, but twice within a four day span.
The aforementioned grievous error took place the last week in December in the early morning hours. Some of you may know of my struggle to fall asleep. Since childhood I've had great trouble in getting to sleep. The older I become the more difficult it is. In recent years my doctor has prescribed Ambian, Ambian CR, and Lunesta to get me where I want to go. They've proven themselves to be everything they advertise on television. The problem is now that I'm pregnant I'm not allowed to partake in these aides. So once again I toss and turn for nearly two hours every night until I fall asleep. Now that I've given you the necessary background let me once more take you back to those chilly, early hours in the last week of December.
I was deep asleep and had only roused three times so far that night to relieve my bladder as pregnant women often do. I've learned not to drink anything after 7:00 including my night time ritual tea or else I'm up every hour performing this necessity. Still, it is normal for me to make my way to the bathroom, eyes shut, at least four to five times a night. I walk to the bathroom, eyes shut, in attempts to avoid waking myself to where I once more have trouble falling asleep. I even go so far as to keep the bathroom light off as well. I know the path by heart and more than once I'm sure that I've actually dozed for a few minutes while sitting in the upright position waiting to pee.
On this fateful night I was making my way, eyes shut, to the bathroom, completely dark, for the fourth time. It was on this fourth trip that I was plunged into the icy depths. With great force my hiney hit the bottom of our toilet bowl. Hubby had forgotten to put the lid down on the toilet. Not only was I cold and wet, but I was pissed - literally, physically, emotionally- anyway one could be. I can count on both hands the number of times my husband has left the lid up in the time that we've known one another. I tried to take this into consideration since he'd always been so attentive to it in the past, but taking anything into consideration in the middle of the night when your bum-bum is not only soaking wet and frigid, but slightly bruised from the force of the fall is difficult. After gathering my composure, hiney, and dignity from the bottom of the bowl I made my way back into our bedroom, eyes wide open. I recounted my ordeal in the calmest manner I could muster with a plea to always put the lid down. Hubby apologised and by the tone of his voice I could tell that he truelly was sorry. Hoping I could reclaim my night's sleep I rolled over and closed my eyes.
Two more nights passed by with no incidents. I would fight to find sleep, feel the need to relieve my bladder four or five times a night, and then go back to a warm and snuggly bed. The fourth night is a much different story, however. As you can already guess, yes, Hubby forgot to put the lid back down. Once more in the chilly, early hours of a December morning I was making my way, eyes shut, to the bathroom, completely dark. Once more I was plunged into the icy depths of our toilet with great force. You've got to be kidding me! What had happened to my once wonderfully thoughtful and patient husband? Did he not like my cooking over the past week? Had I been snoring too loudly? Was he seeing someone else and trying to find a way to "off" me, no matter how silly the cause of death might be? What was he thinking? Then it occured to me. He wasn't thinking. He was tired and simply not thinking. I don't know about you, but that reason made me angrier than any other reason he could offer. Not thinking? About his pregnant wife? If there is anything he should have learned from our previous pregnancy experience it's that he should always be thinking about his pregnant wife! I stomped back into our bedroom, eyes wide open and began my angry rant. My poor, sweet, and very tired husband felt horrible . And if I hadn't been so mad, then I might very well have felt sorry for him. But after all, it wasn't his hiney I had been toweling off just minutes before.
I'm not sure I ever got back to sleep that night. I fumed and fidgited in bed for what seemed an enternity. I must have made quite an impression upon Hubby because he has yet to leave the lid up again. God bless him. He's such a good egg.