I’m pro bacon and I vote
You know you live in a small town when you join the local gym and five of your coworkers, your boss, and your boss’s boss are all lined up, slaving away on the treadmills. Then you go to an Aerobic Cardio Kickboxing Woo Hoo High Five Britney Spears Danceathon Extravaganza Class taught by the lady from down the street who’s young sons like to come feed your goats in the evenings.
Keith woke me up at 2:00 this morning so that I could share in the pain he was experiencing. Poison Oak. On his neck. “I’m suffering! I can’t sleep and I can’t stop with the scratching! I’m just lying here listening to you sleep while I scratch! and scratch! Help me!”
I dragged my ass out of bed and looked up some homestyle anti-itch remedies. I didn’t find much. “Make a paste with baking soda and water” I suggested. “Slap that on there and then squirt some lemon juice on it. Or maybe yogurt. I think we have some sour cream, that might work too.” None of these items helped. We ended up icing down the neck of my tormented husband and this seemed to help. At least I think so, I fell back asleep. Keith is resentful of the fact that I can sleep through anything, sleep anywhere, and fall asleep faster than anyone. Every night, he seethes as I nod off, sometimes in mid conversation, into a peaceful sleep that lasts until morning. Poor guy.