My obedient Henry picks me up from work everyday. I mean it’s the least he can do considering he makes me take the TROLLEY to work, all of the ughs!
Before you start thinking he’s wow so cavalier, you should know that he doesn’t pick me up at my building — he makes me walk for that free ride. Not like, a mile or anything. But still! Whatever’s convenient for Henry.
When I approached him on Monday, he was out cold, snoring all up in our Cruze, with the window wide open, while people passed by. I walked straight up to him, reached through the window and clamped my hand around his neck.
He barely flinched.
Just slowly woke up all natural-like, as though this was his normal alarm clock, some violent BDSM version of a rooster crow.
Tuesday, same thing. But now his window was up:
The passenger side window? Wide open! Sun roof? Wide open! A carjacker’s delight! Might as well start sending out handwritten invitations with the make & model of our car and when it can be expected to be ready for the jackin’.
“I’m not worried,” he said in yawn-speak when I got in the car and began berating him. “There’s a cop right there.” And he pointed to some old security guard daydreaming in front of the fountain across the plaza.
And then he fell asleep at the show we were at last night. Boyfriend can honestly say goodnight anywhere. Chris has a picture of him sleeping at her wedding reception, for christ’s sake!
This concludes a blog post about Henry’s exposed, public sleeping habits. Thank you.