There is a legend in the urban centers of the world, a myth of a creature of epic foulness and horror, upon whose name you should only click with great fear and trepidation: the ratking.
For those who’d rather not follow through to the images and detail in the link above, the idea is that, somehow, whether by an accident of continually dank and tangled living or by cruel design on the part of sadistic people with too much time on their hands, rats can become tangled so densely in their tails that they are unable to separate. They then become one organism through some disgusting means of tail-on-tail fusion, sharing neural processes, appetites, instincts, and so on.
I cannot speak to the veracity of this legend. However, a similar phenomenon has been known to arise in my own home. It is forged at night, and brings with it the cold.
The blanket king.
I’ve commented before on Joanie’s propensity to appropriate any and all blankets on the bed each night. Well, now that we actually live somewhere where cold is an option, this phenomenon has increased exponentially.
Every morning, we wake up to see the above image on our bed. During the night, I reach to cuddle my wife and find myself instead confronted with an insurmountable Everest of assorted warm fabrics, somewhere within which lies, I am certain, the woman I married.
To keep myself from freezing, I’ve begun stockpiling blankets on the floor beside the bed. I start with one – just one, my needs are few – blanket on me in the night, and when it is absorbed into the Blanket King, I wake myself up with the shivering, grab another one from the floor, and go back to sleep. This process is usually repeated three or four times, but thankfully we have LOTS of blankets.
I’d like to stress that it is impossible to even be irritated with Joanie for this. It’s funny. We both see that it’s funny. And it’s not like she does it on purpose. As mentioned in a recent post, we have to choose between arctic and solar-surface, and it’s a lot easier to add more blanket layers than it is to remove one’s skin. The cold hits Joanie more than it does me, because I’m both far larger and covered with hair. So it’s all good. But we eventually decided to just bite the bullet and procure a new comforter, which we were lacking. This, we felt, would provide enough warmth to both of us that the blankets would remain in some semblance of sharable order throughout the…
All hail the king.