I almost killed myself last night. Really. It was a near-death experience, I almost died of….guilt. You wonder: what could I possibly have done that could nearly kill with me guilt and yet NOT leave me incarcerated? Or do they allow blogging from prison? Ok, I’ll get to the point, though my mom will kill me after she reads this.
Last night, I started filling up my parents’ waterbed. See, it had been drained for maintenance a few uh…weeks ago, and my dad had been sleeping on the sofa since then. If it were up to my father, the waterbed would STILL be empty, because he prefers the sofa anyway.
Alors. I decided to fill the waterbed last night. I grabbed the garden house and hooked it up to the sink with a few nylons. (family tradition, don’t ask) I put the other end into the waterbed and turned on both taps. I waited.
I stood around.
I poked the bed.
It was taking too long.
I got bored.
I went to watch TV.
An hour later I heard a piercing shriek from Aniraz. I rushed downstairs and saw…this. (click link at your own risk) And then I died.
I can honestly say I have never felt so guilty in my entire life. I feel as though I have done an unspeakable wrong to an old friend. What did the waterbed ever do to deserve such heinous treatment? I think the only thing I could do worse than this would be to run over the family dog. Like the dog, this waterbed has been a true and loyal member of the family since time immemorial, and now, well…it’s still around, but I know it hates me now.
The taps were turned off immediately and we started draining the bed, and then cleaning up the flood of water that had gotten as far as the computer table in the next room. I couldn’t look at the waterbed, I felt as if it was going to burst any second, and the creaking and groaning of the waterbed frame didn’t do much to allay my fears. I turned off the lights, left the room and closed the door behind me.
I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea to calm my frazzled nerves. Your nerves would be frazzled too if you had overfilled a family friend to dangerous limits, flooded the house and had no way to rectify the situation in the half hour before your father was scheduled to come home. I sat down on the sofa and tried to figure out how I would break the news to my father.
Abez: (wringing hands nervously) “Dad, there’s been a terrible accident…”
Dad: (standing up suddenly) “What is it! Is everyone ok? What’s going on?”
Abez: (turns dramatically toward the camera) “Please sit down, it’s nothing fatal but there may be permanent damage…”
Dad: (taking a few uncertain steps towards the audience) “What’s going on! Tell me!”
Abez: (turning around suddenly) “The waterbed, it’s…”
Dad: (turning to face camera with both hands on face) Nahiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!
I felt as though I had failed the waterbed somehow, that I wasn’t helping the situation by closing the poor thing in the room by itself. I had abandoned it a second time…how could I? After all that I had done to it, did I not have the decency to show my face, to offer what little comfort I could?
I picked up my cup of tea and pulled a chair into the bedroom. It was the least I could do. The waterbed greeted me with silence. I could tell it was wrestling with its emotions, trying to forgive me despite the pain I had caused it, the neglect I was so pathetically trying to make up for even after the damage had been done. I didn’t know what to say, so I sat there in embarrassed quiet, periodically mopping the waterbed’s forehead…err…surface to catch the rivulets of water that were escaping from the hose.
When my father came home, I left the room and brought him in. He stood before the unhappy and distended bed with a look of polite shock on his face. You never want to overreact around the patient, it might upset them. He said a few sympathetic words, it was a surprisingly subdued reaction on his part, and then we left the room together to give the waterbed some peace. He shook his head sadly when we were no longer with earshot, and he didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was disappointed in me.
It took a full hour and a half to return the waterbed to its normal dimensions, but its skin has been permanently stretched out. Our relationship is strained as well. The events of last night are too fresh in both of our memories.
The waterbed hasn’t spoken to me since.