[Singin' In the Rain]: Singing in the Shower, Bedroom, and Everywhere Else
“I still think it looks more like a rhinoceros,” Kathy said.
“And this,” Don noted, “Is what I like about wooden ceilings. They’re interesting. And when there’s nothing else to look at they offer something.”
“Nothing else to look at? Excuse you.” Don turned his head and grinned, perhaps a little rakishly. But only a little.
“I spent the last hour looking at you, doll. I’d think you’d be pretty well shut of it now.”
“Sometimes a girl,” Kathy started to say, and stopped abruptly as the door opened. They pulled the covers simultaneously up to their necks, at least until someone knocked on Don’s head.
“Good morning, good morning. Move over.”1 Kathy groaned.
“You could have said something. Or knocked.” Don hummed the first few bars of “They All Rolled Over and One Fell Out,” and Kathy used the spare pillow to whack him in the head.
“I could have,” Cosmo agreed, cheerfully. “Well? Are you moving or do I have to sleep under the bed this morning?”
“The ‘move over’ bit doesn’t fit with the tune, just so you know. I thought you were making pancakes,” Don said, not moving.
“Oh, so you’re the monster under my bed,” Kathy added. “That explains a lot.”
“I only sleep under your bed, Kathy, when I can’t sleep in it. What about “good morning, good morning, please move over, please?”
“Too many pleases,” Don said critically, but rolled over. The bed was not quite big enough for all of them, but Cosmo somehow managed to insinuate himself on Don’s other side anyway.
“I’ll work on it. The pancakes were inexplicably delayed, but I’m sure we’ll work something out.”
“We should just get rid of the other bed altogether and get a king, at this rate,” Kathy observed, who seemed at the most risk of tipping off the bed. The three of them considered that, rather seriously. Perhaps a touch more than ‘rather.’
“Did you have anything to do today?” Don asked, eventually, sounding pensive. Cosmo and Kathy shook their heads in unison, solemnly, and Don shrugged.
“I never liked this bed much anyway. If Cosmo makes pancakes, we’ll go and get a king-size bed and hell with practicality.” Kathy and Don looked at Cosmo, and Cosmo looked at them.
“I’ll make the pancakes,” Kathy volunteered, and Cosmo beamed.
“You’re a sweetheart, Kathy. Me and Don will just stay here and talk about man business.” Kathy threw the pillow at Cosmo this time, who seemed to want to fall over backwards and compromised by dropping dead at once.
“You,” She said, and swung her legs out of bed and her body a moment afterwards, picking up her clothes as she went.
“You know,” Don observed, watching her go, “I have a sense that the comfort levels in this house have reached somewhat absurd levels.”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Cosmo bumped Don’s hip with his. “And you can move over more. She’s good with a pillow.” Don moved over, obligingly.
“I know.” He paused, a moment, thinking and added, “Not at all. Do you?”
“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Cosmo said, with one of those big and somewhat silly grins of his that Don knew were meant to make him laugh.
He laughed anyway.