A Tale of Two Beds

I love my roommate, Steve. Besides the inimitable Jim McWilliams, Steve is my oldest friend. And since living with him since last May I've realized why we get along so well, he's ridiculously eclectic and so am I. Odd sleeping hours, sometimes going to bed at 4pm and waking up at midnight, or staying up all night, out at all odd hours. If either one of us is kidnapped the other would assume for a full week that the other was just simply busy. We're both walking imdb's with the most obscure expertise in dumb bullshit and can quote The Cable Guy verbatim amongst other unmarketable skills.

And we both have a messy bed.


Mine

Steve's

Now everyone's got a messy bed, except those that don't. But Steve and I have exactly the same kind of messy bed, the messy bed doubling as a desk filled with current projects. The messy bed filing system. As Steve and I began to realize that we both had the same type of messy bed we conferred and found that we also treat our messy bed's in the same way. Rather than clearing the bed to sleep, we simply push the mess to the place where some wife or girlfriend ought to be and sleep with our mess as our mistress.





So now you know a little bit more about me. Like anybody needs that.