by Beth Goodman

Disclaimers: None whatsoever. Oh, maybe a spew alert.

Feedback is always welcome: bethgoodman@e-scribblers.com .

Copyright © 2004 by Beth Goodman. All Rights Reserved.

---

Whenever Granny and I were at the mall I would insist on a stop at the waterbed store, trying (oh so subtly) to hint at my heart's desire. I made the mistake of sitting down on a demo model, once. You can't really sit on a waterbed you know, your butt sinks like a stone. Granny stood there and snickered at me, stuck there, with my knees up to my ears, and then walked out of the store. Leaving me to flail like a landed fish until I managed to pry myself up again. I quit going to the waterbed store in the mall after that, I was too embarrassed to darken the door again.

As it turned out, I got a nice chunk of money as gifts when I graduated from high school, and Kathy drove me to a genuine waterbed store, not that "wanna be" place in the mall. I picked out a simple, cheap, model that would suit me just fine and made arrangements to have it delivered. The store also offered to assemble it for me, but that cost extra. How hard could it be anyway?

The bed arrived, right on time, and was delivered straight to my bedroom. In pieces. Lots of pieces. Including huge solid wood pieces that needed to have holes drilled into them.

Granny washed her hands of this affair from the get go. I wanted the waterbed, I bought the waterbed, and I could figure out what to do with it. Not one to be easily daunted, I called my friendly waterbed expert, after all Kathy had had hers for months!

Now, you need to understand what happens when Kathy and I get together. It's really quite fascinating. Two rather intelligent human beings morph into a mini-mob with the average IQ of a cheese puff and no common sense whatsoever.

So, there it was. Just us, the parts, a screwdriver and a hammer. Without the slightest concern, we waded in and began assembly with total faith in our own invincibility.

Remember those big wooden pieces, the ones without a single hole? Kathy and I made holes... With the screwdriver and the hammer. We also made blisters. We made more blisters than holes, actually. We did not make a waterbed.

Granny came in to watch our fine young minds at work, and had to leave the room before we chucked a part at her for laughing. Waterbed assembly is not a spectator sport.

Hours passed, and we finally reached the breaking point. We swallowed our pride, and Kathy called her dad.

We asked to borrow the drill, but Jim had seen the two of us change the oil in Kathy's car awhile back, and was wise enough to deny us access to the power tools. Instead, he brought himself along with the drill, to see if he could sort us out.

He took one look at the headboard we had managed to assemble and exclaimed, "Katherine! You put it on backwards!"

Oops.

I really loved that waterbed, what a great way to sleep. Cool in the summer, warm in the winter. Granny however, wanted very little to do with it. She was convinced she would get seasick on the darned thing. Every night though, she would come in and we would say our prayers together. She tried sitting on the wooden edge of the bed, but that didn't really work, and she knew from my escapade at the mall that sitting on the actual waterbed was not an option. Eventually she caved in and lay down next to me.

Over time, Granny's hesitation evaporated, and she would come trotting into my room at bedtime and launch herself on the bed and holler, "Tidal wave!" That alone was worth every blister and moment of embarrassment.

Kathy and I have worked on many other projects together over the years, with varying degrees of success. We were darn near 30 before we realized how much of a menace we were as a team. But I have to admit that in the long run, I'd rather have the memories of our half-baked adventures than a right-side-out waterbed any day.

Take me to Life With Granny 4...

Feed the Scribbler: bethgoodman@e-scribblers.com.