Laying in bed, talking to Taylor. He’s moving back in this weekend, so tonight is the last night that we spend in a ‘Medium-Distance Relationship’. I meant to spend the last few days cleaning our apartment to the point of spotlessness, but after the Great Potato Incident, I’ve found myself a little worn out on the whole ‘cleaning’ process.
So I’m laying in bed, and it occurs to me that my toes are absolutely freezing. This isn’t unusual. It’s a natural signifier that autumn is here. The leaves are turning red. The wind is shoving people around on the sidewalks, systematically grabbing papers and mussing people’s hairdos. Girls are pulling the tights out of their closets, and my toes have becoming chilly little toesicles. It is the way of the wild, and I feel the need to warn Taylor what he is in for.
Me: “I should warn you: it’s getting cold in here.”
Me: “Yes. I’ve broken out the heated blanket for the couch to keep my feet warm, and there’s two…three comforters on the bed. Big ones. Although I think it’s partially the fan’s fault.”
Taylor: “The fan?”
Me: “Yeah – I’ve gotten so used to the sound that I can’t sleep without it on.”
Taylor: “Yeah, we’re…we’re going to have to turn that off at some point.”
Me: “I know.”
Taylor: “Maybe we could get – ”
Me: “-one of those looping sound CD’s, yeah! Like ocean sounds, to play at night.”
Taylor: “Soothing waves and wind. Wooosh…whoooooooosh…CAW CAW CAW.”
Me: “Haha! That’s what I was just thinking. You know, Kyrissa used to have one of those when we were little, except it was jungle sounds.”
Taylor: “Oh, did she?”
Me: “Yes! When I stayed overnight at her house she’d put it on sometimes and it’d put her right to sleep. It was like…leaves rushing…leaves rustling, whatever, and soft bird noises, but then…the monkey.”
Taylor: “Oh, no.”
Me: “Exactly. I’d be almost asleep, with the birds and the leaves, and then…OOH OOH OOH AAAACK! AAACK! AAACK! And then BAM. AWAKE. Kyrissa wouldn’t even shift. She didn’t make a sound, and I’d try to fall back asleep again until the monkey inevitably came back on the loop.”
Taylor: “That sounds terrible.”
Me: “It was terrible.”
We chatted for awhile longer about Taylor’s last day at his internship and the weekend we had planned, and hung up. I’m laying in bed now, typing, my feet bunched up underneath me, trying to tap into the power of my butt-warmth for protection against the cold. The fan is on the lowest setting, but it’s still on.
Maybe if I turned the heater on full-blast it would make the same noise.