By Dick Wolfsie
Guest Columnist

Dick Wolfsie

It was our 43rd anniversary, and I decided to take Mary Ellen to a local art show and stay downtown in a bed and breakfast. My wife loves B&Bs, so I was sure she would enjoy the evening.

The owner offered to take us on a short tour of the historic building. We hauled luggage up the stairs and were led down the hall to our room. It was quaint and rustic with a porch that looked out on the downtown area.

We were within walking distance to where we planned to have our anniversary dinner. All was perfect … until we saw the bed. It was not a king size bed; it was not a queen size bed. It was a double bed. The kind of bed many people sleep in … alone.

“Do you like the room?” asked the proprietor.

“I love it,” said my wife, “but where is my husband going to sleep?”

The woman winked at me. “This is your romantic anniversary. I’m sure you will make it work.”

“Even on our honeymoon, this wouldn’t have worked,” said my wife.

Here’s why. I have a few sleep issues. Most notably, I snore. I move around constantly, tossing and turning, flipping and flopping. Sometimes even screaming. People tell my wife she looks incredible for a woman in her early 70s. I then tell them she’s only 40, but this is what happens when you’ve been sleep deprived your entire marriage.

That night after a lovely dinner, we headed back to the B&B and prepared to turn in.

“Which side of the bed should I take?” I asked my Mary Ellen.

“Underneath would probably be the best option.”

We pulled down the covers and that’s when the excitement began, but not the excitement you might be thinking. At about 2 am, I was having a very scary dream and next thing I knew I had fallen out of bed. This awakened Mary Ellen who saw me all sprawled out on the floor and in a bit of pain.

“That’s so sweet of you to sleep there. Now you won’t be kicking me.”

“I am not sleeping here. I fell out of bed.”

“That’s terrible; maybe you should sleep in the middle.”

“It’s a double bed. There is no middle when there are two people. Let’s go back to sleep.”

At 4 a.m. I fell out again. This time I had pulled the pillow off with me. Seeing me on the floor, Mary Ellen got out of bed and lovingly placed a blanket over me. And there I slept: tossing, turning, snoring.

In the morning, the lady at the desk was curious. “Some of the folks staying at the inn heard loud noises at 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. Are you okay? I hope you guys didn’t have a falling out.”

“I’m fine,” said Mary Ellen. “It was only my husband who fell out.”

We shared our adventure at the B&B with one of our friends. We told Cathy we enjoyed our stay and that next year we would return, but we were going to make different arrangements.

“Are you going to ask for two separate beds?” asked Cathy.

“No,” said Mary Ellen. “Two separate rooms.”