It was that winter when our three sons were still living at home and all were attempting to compete with Yeti in the hairy face/huge feet department. For some reason they had ended in a heap of elbows and knees on our bed to watch Monday night football on the tiny portable television.
I was finishing up some chores in the kitchen when Beavis burst into the room soaking wet. It seems our old waterbed wasn’t made for three man tag team wrestling. Butthead and Bobert weren’t as soaked as their younger brother, probably because they hadn’t been on the bottom of the heap when the bed erupted.
The sodden bedding was pulled off and it looked like the waterbed was due to become history along with the Berlin Wall and the Exxon Valdez. DH and I slept on sofas that night.
I put another load of blankets in the washer before I left for work the next morning. DH and the boys were all on Christmas break and promised they’d take care of the bed problem while I was gone.
I returned that evening to find DH had purchased a brand new box springs and mattress. It was all made up with fresh bedding in our bedroom.
Bobert had repaired and taken possession of the waterbed. This meant he had to move his new acquisition down the stairs in pieces and fill it after he'd cleaned and cleared a space out in the debris of his room.
Beavis laid claim to Bobert’s old double bed to replace the twin bed he’d been sleeping on. So he had clean sheets and a cleaner room as well.
Butthead had commandeered Beavis’ twin bed and had moved both mattress and frame all the way from the basement to the attic to replace the old bunk he’d been sleeping on. I wasn't there to see how many times the burden rolled back down on him, but he'd achieved his goal.
They all looked prouder than Hercules after he'd cleaned the Augean Stables. I was amazed, pleased and properly impressed.