Thursday, February 5, 2009

I Feel Deflated

No, I'm not talking about my emotions and I won't even require you to validate my feelings on this one. For those of you who know me also know that my wife and I have an inflatable bed. That's right, I'm proud to say it. Seriously, though, we both love it and it makes moves a lot easier.


One night, Christy and I woke up and some unknown force had humbled our bed and leveled it to the ground (well, almost). Being seven months pregnant, you can imagine that Christy was not a big fan of this . . . So as I continued my not-so-comfortable slumber, my wife investigated the situation and sluethed out the problem: a tiny cre-vass (crack) in one of the creases. As young fathers would say, "Good eye, son, good eye!" (And ears, I suppose.)

So, being the handy fix-it man that I am (uproarious laughter), I set to work (although "not at [that] precise moment . . . Amadeus fans) and scratched my head. I tried tacky glue, I tried tape, I tried Elmer's glue (hey, stop laughing already) and we even busted out some "official" air mattress patches. Unfortunately, the bed is fuzzier than a Georgia peach; no dice.

Finally, being the fiscally sound Scrooge that I am, the light bulb dinged in my mind and I had it!


Sadly, the superglue, in and of itself, didn't seem to do the trick and so I resorted to the clever concoction you now see before you.

And you wondered why they call me D-Money (when I'm not referred to as the C.A.). I will now accept your applause.


Steph said...

*enter round of applause here* :)

Fletch said...


I though your picture of the bed was some modern art thing before I got down into the post. You should submit it to the museum of modern art in Utah.

...No wait, I don't think they have anything like that in the Beehive state.