Remote Hunt

 

My husband, Rick, snores.

In Argelès, My office doubles as a snore room to escape to.

In Geneva, I put on the TV, the blended sound letting me sleep.

Last night, I woke with the TV doing crazy things, channels changing, changing, changing.

I reached for the remote to stop it, but the remote had disappeared. Normally, it is on the sheet between my and Rick's pillows. That way either of us can shut the TV off.

I searched under the duvet, over the duvet, under the pillows. Rick is a heavy sleeper (I'm jealous) so I rolled him over. The remote was not under his pillow. At this point he was no longer snoring.

Ten minutes or so into my quest, I gave up and woke him.

Together we searched, stripping the bed, moving the bed looking every place we could think of around the bed. Sometimes the channels went crazy only to stop changing and to start again.

Had evil spirits entered the flat? We've been here since 2015 and nothing like this has happened.

The dog at this point was awake and was staring at us. The remote is nothing he's been interested in. He is probably the best sleeper of the three of us, so the chances of him removing it to join his other toys was not likely, but I checked anyway.

"I've got it!" Rick held it up.

Somehow it had fallen and wedged between the side of the bed and the bed board. We're still not sure what caused it to change channels except movement of the bed. It was probably something I did in my sleep. 

"I'm so sorry," I said to Rick. He had put everything back together and was crawling under the duvet.

Neither or us lose our tempers when one or the other does something dumb, knowing given enough time, the other would do something less than brilliant.