The Short Bed

I’m sitting at my computer right now on my “bed” which you see pictured above, contemplating my life. I am in Wiesdbaden. My voice teacher, Alan, has come into the country for an audition so I’m hanging with him to have a lesson and meet some folks. We are staying in a one room apartment which was advertised as having a pull out couch. Well, as you can see, the couch pulls out, but there seems to be something missing – because the only soft parts of the bed are the parts I’m laying on. The other part is solid wood. Something isn’t quite right. We’re guessing there’s a pad that needs to lay on top of this, but we can’t find it. So I’m sleeping on a bed that is the length of someone half my size in the same room as my teacher (who also happens to be a great friend) with a thin blanket over me pumped full of xanax and Ambien so I can get to sleep in this extraordinary situation.

And it is at times like this that I sit back and evaluate my life. I mean, I know no life is normal, but I could be back at my 2300 square foot house with a fire blazing in the fireplace next to my husband drinking wine and then moving into the bedroom where I have a king sized, soft bed and…well, I’ll leave that story there, but you get the picture. Instead, I’m in Germany living out of my suitcase, going from place to place not knowing what to except and ending up on a bed that is 1/3 too short!

And then I wonder, perhaps sleeping on the short bed implies the same thing as riding the short bus…

Another reason arts are crazy!