El Capitán Loco evidently mixes up her diacritical marks. Because she is LOCO!
All of which is what made my discovery last night that much more surprising. Going in, you'll have to know three things:
THING ONE: We have separate mattresses.
Not separate BEDS, mind you, just separate mattresses, but placed together in a king frame. (Just--whatever, just go with it, okay?)
THING TWO: J loves his mattress.
Despite the two mattresses being 100% identical, and purchased on the same day from the same place, he remains intractably convinced of his mattress' superiority, as if mine is made of porcupine quills, Nazis, and sharpened sticks.
THING THREE: I rarely change the sheets.
NOTA BENE: They get CHANGED, mind you, weekly. Just usually not by me. (As noted above, I have enough trouble hanging up my damned suit pants.)
So now that you're armed with these key facts, let's proceed.
As it happened, last night, I was -- for the first time since we moved -- changing our sheets. As I made my way around toward J's side, I noticed something on the side of his mattress:
Why, yes. Yes, that is a GIANT "J" ON THE SIDE OF THE MATTRESS IN RED SHARPIE, completely visible when the blanket is pulled back. My first thought was that our incompetent movers had done it. It wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility, considering that they -- among other, lesser transgressions -- forgot to put our couch legs back on, said "oh, prolly just 15 more minutes, Mrs. Lady!" when what they truly meant was "THREE MORE HOURS, MRS. LADY. THREE ADDITIONAL HOURS. WE ARE LIARS, TERRIBLE, SLOW MOVERS, AND WE ALSO CALL YOU 'MRS. LADY,' AND THINK THAT'S OKAY," and in a stunning finale, literally trapped me in the living room with an alarmingly large amount of boxes, causing me to have to sort of hurl myself over and through them, like a contestant on Double Dare. (Keep being awesome, Ben Hur Movers!) But I asked J about it, and he matter-of-factly told me that no, he had written the "J" on there, so as to make sure he got the right mattress after the move.
Naturally, I was brimming with questions. Such as "What the effing crap, J? Who ARE you? Banksy?" and "I'm sorry, why couldn't it be on the INNER SIDE of the mattress? What about a subtle DOT on the label? Did I go into some fugue state wherein I, too, had marked my mattress like a CRAZY PERSON, such that the only way -- the ONLY WAY -- to distinguish the mattresses, and to ensure their proper return to their rightful owners (sleepers?) was by tagging each with one's initial, like a graffiti artist? WHAT KIND OF WORLD IS THIS?"
And you should have SEEN him, shrugging it off, just talking about the need for the (large, red, permanent) letter "J," like it was some completely logical decision he had to make, and everyone was just going around, doing this. I'm pretty sure -- if given the chance -- he'd do it again, if it would mean getting the proper mattress. The whole episode was completely random and bizarre, and I'd like to be more annoyed, but--well, you guys. This must be what it's like to live with ME. Walking into your dining room and being full-on ambushed by your significant other wearing an actual lampshade on her head, asking you to take a series of pictures of her in it, as if everyone was just going around, doing this. Uh, for instance. He goes along, always helping my with my assorted ludicrous projects, no matter how ludicrous said projects may be. And so, although This Whole Letter J Thing is ridiculous and crazy, I'm going to embrace the ridiculous and crazy in him. Lord knows I owe him one in that department, for a change.
(And obviously, I want to know if my yin-yang couple theory is right. Where do you and your significant other fall in the Normal/El Capitán Loco equation?)