Friday night my husband and I stayed at a bed and breakfast. We’re not really bed and breakfast people. That whole “sharing living space with strangers” doesn’t work for us. As a matter of fact, if we visit family, we’ll usually stay at a motel near their home. But we’ve known the owners of this bed and breakfast a long time and they’re awesome and we’re comfortable with them. My husband stays there sometimes when he’s sledding, though this was my first stay. (We have breakfast there a lot, though.)

So we settled into our room and my husband set about trying to watch television. This involved a lot of static and two remotes and swearing and much hitting of buttons and more static and more swearing and checking connections and more static until he finally gave up.

Meanwhile, I watched an episode of Storage Wars on my phone.

Then it was time to set the alarm. My husband, who refused my offer of having my phone wake us up, actually had to wind the clock on his side of the bed, which made me laugh and laugh.

Of course, he had the last laugh when he was snoring and I was awake half the night listening to the damn tick tick tick tick tick tick of that stupid wind-up clock.

I swear, if I’d rolled over onto his side of the bed, it would have been like traveling back in time.