It sounds scandalous, I know. Here's what usually happens. We're either already out running errands, or getting ready to do so, and planning the stops along the way. We agree that we need to go to Store X because they have a fantastic sale on something or other. But where do we need to go after that? Well, one of us mentions that maybe we should stop at Store Y because we're running low on booze. Yes, you read that correctly. We say we're running low on booze.
Some day, someone is going to overhear us as we chat in the supermarket about how we're running low on booze and need to stock up. If by any chance they know us, they may be doubly scandalized. Two people who have kidney problems and are diabetics, and all they can think about is boozing it up? Hah! That's where we have one up on you, Judgemental Nosy Nellie! In TrentandKatrina Speak, booze means any sort of soft drink. It could be diet soda or the numerous tasty sugar-free water flavorings that are now available. They are great for us because they have no calories and encourage us to keep up our fluid intake and keep our kids (kidneys) happy.
Are we the only ones out here who are silly enough to have created our own language as a couple, and also among close friends? You may not recall that due to my sister Liz and her occasional mangling of words or names, Trent and I, along with some of our friends, can only call pulled pork "pull-apart pork." When something is so wrong that it's right, you just have to stick with it.
And that brings us to the subject of political coverups. These occur in our home on a daily basis. No, neither one of us is a spin doctor (someone employed to shape or control public opinion) for any politician or political candidate of any description. Yet political coverups continually happen here. You see, a few years ago, Trent ordered a bumper sticker from the campaign of a political candidate who will remain unnamed because who they are has absolutely nothing to do with the story. This bumper sticker took a place of honor lying on the piece of furniture in our bedroom that houses some of our Important Stuff, as well as the television and related mechanical stuff which I am too lazy to list now.
Well, we ended up getting a spandy-new fancy cable box from our provider. It had some newer features that the previous box did not, and also one that was a throwback of sorts. It has a nicely sized digital clock display on the front that can easily be read from across the room. It also has a fancy power button that shines in different colors that signify whatever it thinks they are supposed to signify. And it's kinda, well..very, very bright.
Seriously, the first night we had it, we turned off all of the lights and went to bed, only to discover that the lights on the cable box were the equivalent of having two night lights sitting within inches of each other a few feet from the foot of our bed. It was kind of aggravating. Okay, the truth is it was really aggravating. We got up, turned the lights on, and set about locating the commands to control the brightness of the display. It was easy enough and only took a few moments.
Well, when the display was dark enough to allow sleep, it was too dark to be useful in the daytime. It also seemed that every time we brightened it for daytime use, we forgot to darken it again before bedtime. Up we'd get, grumbling that we had forgotten it once again. Simple solutions are sometimes the best. We propped the bumper sticker in front of one end of the display and a box of kid-decorated-so-why-do-we-have-them bandages in front of the other. Before long, it seemed only natural to refer to it as what it technically was - a political coverup.
Since I walk past the cable box on my way to get into bed for the night, I tend to be the one who is in charge of political coverups. And yes, sometimes I do forget. Hey, I don't think about either politics or the cable box all of the time, I'm glad to say! I lay down, say my good nights to Trent, and start to listen to a book. As I turn over to get into a more comfortable position, the light beams brilliantly from across the room. Without bothering to put on my eyeglasses, I stumble in the not-quite dark to complete my task of performing yet another political coverup. Perhaps if I hadn't been so focused on getting a glass of booze on the bedside table for the late-night thirsties, I'd be a better spin doctor, able to sleep peacefully in my delightfully darkened room.