Rose has always had these weird premonitions of me falling down. And by always, I mean she's had them twice. Once, back in college, after all of us had been drinking college punch and burning incense, we came the the conclusion that we NEEDED pie. Right then and there. As we walked to the grocery store Rose kept saying things along the line of "Be careful Hales! I feel like you're going to fall, or something!" (to be fair, though, she also was really worried about us 'catching a chill' in that cold July air and insisted we huddled under the street lamp for warmth. So, maybe her worries were a little unfounded?). Later in the grocery store I drunkenly jumped onto my boyfriend's back, laughing hysterically and tickling him, causing him to drop me. Rose then proclaimed, with all the smug certainty in the world: "I knew it! I just knew you were going to fall!".
Rose had her second Hales falling! premonition a few weeks ago after I insisted on setting my already really unstable bed frame, box spring, and mattress up on risers. Really, this wasn't a premonition so much as pure common sense, but I wanted a tall bed, damnit! When you live in the teensiest of apartments under the bed is prime time storage space you guys!
Last night as I crawled into said tall bed after several Easter mimosas, it totally collapsed. Completely. It was sort of a fitting end to a week which had involved crazy mean Ex rantings and a trip to the ER for stitches. When my little brother came over later to help me salvage it, he found me sitting in the corner of the teensiest bedroom with all of my other furniture pushed into the teensiest kitchen where my mattress and box spring were precariously perched {sidenote: brothers are the absolute best. Especially mine.}.
Upon getting the text letting her know that she was right and my bed had finally collapsed, Rose responded:
"Well, were you at least having sex when it happened?!"
I guess it's the most legitimate question that could really be asked after such an occurrence.
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