It's a Good Thing!

When I  was five years old, I ran my first science experiment. There was a little boy, a kindergarten classmate of mine, who always came to school with sleepy seeds caught in his eyelashes.

I could never understand this. How could he not get up and rub the sleepy seeds from his eyes when he awoke each morning? Wasn't that what everyone did? How could he not? Just the feel of sleepy seeds caught in my lashes and the corners of my eyes was enough to drive me crazy.

One day, I determined to see what this was all about. So, I got up and did not wipe the sleepy seeds from my eyes. This took a lot of effort on my part. But I had to know.

It took four days, but eventually I found out. After four days, the sleepy seeds had migrated from the inner corners of my eyes farther and farther and farther out on  my lashes. Until I woke up on that fateful fourth day and could not open my eyes.

The sleepy seeds had glued my eyelids shut. It took a blind walk to the bathroom, feeling my way along the wall, and a washcloth wetted with hot water and held to my eyelids to soften the sleepy seeds and wipe my eyes clear before I could see again.

I've wiped sleepy seeds from eyes every day since. Some twenty-eight years worth of sleepy seeds removed, washed away, cleared from the corners of my eyes each day.

After sex, Doc always jumps out of bed and gets cleaned up. It was a conflation of his habit and my science experiment at the age of five that ran rampant through my brain this week while Doc and I were having sex.

And I started to giggle. Now I had been having a terrible couple of days - sparked by a sign of a pink ribbon with Mickey Mouse ears on the side of a hospital as I drove down to Doc's Friday night.

This reminded me of a time during seminary when I had a misunderstanding with a friend. She had made a remark that confused me and the more I sought clarificaiton, the angrier she became with what she saw as my intentional obtuseness.

This memory led to a downward spiral of thought - remembering all of the times people have assumed I was affecting stupidity or confusion to derail conversation or frustrate them. People assume that because I'm brilliant, I must always get everything and thus no question could possibly be genuine.

This deeply and very negatively feeds my perfectionism. This spiral continued until I found myself washing Doc's whites on Saturday afternoon because I had overflowed my tampon and left a spot of blood the size of a grain quinoa on his bathroom rug. All I could think was, "Doc is going to break up with me if he finds out!"

Also, it's just good manners. No matter how small the stain is, if you get menstrual blood on someone's bath mat, you should throw it in the wash. With bleach.

At dinner, Doc asked about my downward spiral. I told him about everything. Except the bath mat.

After dinner, while we watched a bit of tv, I had a couple of mixed drinks - orange juice and chocolate vodka.

When we headed to bed, I thought about Doc cleaning up after sex each time. It made sense this weekend, but I was curious about every other time. And somehow, I connected this to sleepy seeds.

I began to giggle.

Doc stopped. "What?" he asked.

"No, it's okay," I tried to tell him as I giggled more. "I just.... It's a good thing," I gasped, trying to compose myself. I burst into giggles again. "I'm thinking about your penis!"

Suddenly, the absurdity of this hit me. I'm pretty sure no man on earth is going to hear their partner say, "I'm thinking about your penis" while giggling maniacally and think it's a good thing. I began to laugh harder.

"It's a good thing," I tried to say. "I just wondered," I gasped for breath, "if you didn't clean up right after sex," laughter overcame me again, "would your urethra be glued shut!?" I lost it. I couldn't stop laughing. It was just all too absurd.

Doc lost it, too.

My giggles had killed the mood. "I'm glad you're laughing again," Doc told me, "but it's just not sexy."

And I imagine his words are universally true. There's probably not much in life less sexy mid-coitus than a partner laughing hysterically while saying, "It's a good thing! I'm thinking about your penis!"