The One I Couldn't Remember!

While telling a tangential story to my friend Frazzle B, I remembered the last interesting thing. Now I can sleep well. Here you have it.

JB, the girl of lasagna infamy, started a rather intense conversation before ward prayer that she obviously felt compelled to finish right after ward prayer. I, however, was conveniently stowed away in the bedroom of my neighbor's house that we call Narnia (and have for years, predating the recent Chronicles craze) because the door is located at the back of someone's closet area. I was in there with the lights out trying to get the weak, stolen wireless signal from someone in "Ivy House" (sorry, whoever you are). I heard the door open behind me, and assuming it was one of the neighbors, I just ignored them. Then I heard the delicate voice of a female saying, "Limon?" I turned around but could not see her face.

"Announce yourself!" I screamed. Just kidding. That would be weird.

The odd part about this bedroom is that it has become a storage closet for the unused mattresses in the house. Since the occupancy dropped from eleven to six this last summer, there are a lot of unused mattresses. In fact, in order to get to the far side of the room, you have to jimmy yourself between two of them, then shuffle sideways while trying not to fall over.

Interesting. So here I am, breaking the honor code in a dark, secluded room, and the only thing that physically keeps me and my late night visitor from falling rapturously into each other's arms is a myriad of mattresses, a bevy of boxsprings, yea, a flood of frames. It might be the first time that a mattress has protected someone's chastity. Interesting.