The man is 82, almost 83, yet acts like a child sometimes. Yes, I’m talking about Doug again. How can I not?
The town board considered renaming the road Dougie Wuggy Road. There are only seven other houses on the block. Why was I the neighbor blessed with receiving Doug’s midnight calls?
His latest? Since returning from his reunion, he’s been complaining about his sheets. They aren’t as comfortable as the ones at the hotel. The sheets at home stick to his leg, producing an uncomfortable insomnia.
“But you’re an insomniac,” I reminded him. “I can show you my phone records.”
“It’s the sheets, I tell you.”
He went on like this for days. Finally, I hopped on Amazon and researched the hell out of the best sheets fit for an insomniac. Found these bed sheets. 100% cotton sateen… luxury… blah blah blah. Expensive, but possibly well worth the cost if I could get my sleep back.
Two days later they arrived. Knocked on his door. Pushed past Doug as if I owned the place.
Ripped the old bed sheets off.
Put on the new ones. So soft. So yummy. So worthwhile testing out, but that would have been odd.
I was one million percent certain this would keep him in bed — if not for eight hours, then twelve.
The first three nights? Not one phone call. I was in the clear…
Until the fourth night. It was 1:15 a.m.
“Got a confession,” he started. “This insomnia has nothing to do with the sheets. At the reunion, I exercised. Walked. We drank tea instead of coffee.”
“So, let me get this right, Doug. You woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that at home your habits are shit and I have to suffer because of that?”
He may have hung up. Possibly I hung up. Maybe I fell asleep mid-sentence.
All I know is, the next morning I was sipping coffee, looking out the window…
And there was Doug. Speed walking down the street.
In this excerpt depicting one of the most bizarre humans I’ve ever met is an affiliate link.
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