I hadn't changed the sheets in far too long. Another testament to my laziness, really, since it was something I both should and could have done two weeks ago. I freshly laundered my favourite bedsheets - blue, like the ripples on a lake - left them to dry in the boiler room... and then promptly forgot about them. And, to be fair, the red sheets that Jilly's mother had sent us were getting ridiculous. I just didn't want to change them.
Perhaps the main reason that I'm not particularly fond of changing bedsheets is the far corner of our room, next to her side of the bed. Although it's a good opportunity to be Manly™, levering the whole mattress up on one knee while fitting one corner of the bottom sheet, there isn't a lot of space between the bed and the wall. I usually get around it by manoeuvring my body in unexpected ways, standing on whatever I can find and getting the mattress up as soon as I can (the slats on the bed frame bear my weight, thankfully enough).
But this time was different. Stuff had accumulated in that corner, and although I attempted to plunge my foot into the general mulch that was there, it just wasn't going anywhere. I could stand on top of the collection of magazines, soft toys and Coke bottles, but it wasn't a prime position to be in. I couldn't bend down to get the mattress, and crucially, I was worried I might break something.
I took a few minutes to gather up as much of the stuff as I could, laying out several issues of Empire wherever there was space. Taking a random guess at how much floor space I'd find, I carefully lowered my left foot downwards.
"My foot's vibrating."
I hastily tried to clear more of the stuff away, but couldn't find the source of the vibration, even though I was pretty sure what it was... it was both hilarious and mortifying at the same time. Would've been more so if someone else had walked in, granted, but then - being topless and having pictured of naked cosplay girls on my wall - I probably would have had more problems in that sense first. I mean, it could be anything that was buzzing. A particularly persistent ringtone. An electric toothbrush misplaced onto the floor for some reason. An unusually angry bee. Something like that.
By now Jilly was on her stomach, groping around aimlessly (she kept hitting my foot, which I'm pretty sure wasn't deliberate, so I moved it out of the way).
"Hang on... I've got it..." she grunted, before extracting a huge purple thing which chose that very moment to cease its buzzing. I stared for a while, trying to fathom how it worked, before shrugging and getting back to being Manly™. Just one of the occasional perils of two sex bloggers living together, one supposes.
A few minutes later, after being a blue ghost for a while, I'd managed to wrestle the bed into submission. I stood back to admire my handiwork...
The corner of the fitted sheet zipped back to the centre of the mattress.