In bed

Every night, this past week, Ben and I have been cuddling-up together in bed, along with his laptop, watching the equivalent of crack cocaine for the eyes: ABC’s TV series Lost. Have you heard of it? I hadn’t, but I lifted up the rock under which I’d been living and came crawling out. Then I rubbed my eyes, squinted into the light and queued up the series on Hulu.

For those of you not familiar with the show, it goes something like this: commercial jetliner crashes onto a tropical island inhabited by monsters who subsequently dine on the survivors and then belch up their shoes. There are “others” on the island, as well, played by actors who look like the cast members from Children of the Corn, but all grown-up and with facial hair. Basically, it’s forty-three minutes of entertainment that leaves your nervous system curled-up in the fetal position.

I wake up every morning resolved to watch something else before going to bed that night. To DO something else, before I go to bed that night, which in turn will help me sleep better. Something instead of watching Lost, since watching that show falls somewhere on the spectrum of bedtime activities between eating chips and salsa mixed with Drano, and running through a meadow of lavender in three inch heels.

Hell, who knows where the night could take me? There are these things out there with papers and words printed on them! I could try-out one of them-there things! Also, I have this hot guy lying next to me. We could wrestle!

So last night Ben and I were watching Lost, and there was this night scene with bonfires, and sexy sweaty people, and eerie music. And people, let me tell you something...I KNOW that if I were ever to be trapped on a tropical island I would have two major concerns: 1] How many tampons survived the crash? and 2] Where are the tampons?

In fact that was my biggest concern when we lived in Mexico. You know what I can say really well in Spanish? ¿Dónde están los tampones? Or, 'Where are the tampons?' But, you have to be really careful, because add a “su” or a “tu” to that question, and you're asking where THEIR tampon is. Just trust me on this.

Tampons were as easy to come by in Mexico as low humidity. At first I was all, “The hell?” How am I supposed to wear a bathing suit with a truncated diaper pad?” Then I noticed that no one was wearing swimsuits. They swam in their cloths. Probably because no one sold swimsuits. OR A TAMPONS!

Anyway, so we’re watching this a scene on Lost with the bonfires, and the music [the kind that lets you know someone’s about to die or stumble upon someone who’s already dead] is getting louder. Then the smell from the smoke starts getting stronger...

"Ben, do you smell that?"

"The smoke?"

"Yeah! Quick, go check the yard for monsters!"

"Meredith, I’m sure it’s just someone’s fire pit."

Really? Are you sure? Because, I tried buying my brand of tampons today, and they were out. And oh god, this life of ours is metamorphosing into a monster-filled-tropical-island!

"No Meredith, this life of ours is metamorphosing into a nice, normal family of five living in the suburbs."

Oh...my...god. It’s worse than I thought!