My parents live about 2 hours away, so when they visit they will occasionally stay.
(This is sounding rather like a bad poem. No more rhymes now, I mean it. Anybody want a peanut? ;) Okay...on with the story!)
One evening we blew up the air mattress for my parents. We didn't (and still don't) have a guest room, so the living room has had to suffice. We all said goodnight, and Nate and I went upstairs.
At some point in the deep, dark hours, I needed to go downstairs to get something. Afraid I was going to wake up my parents, I tiptoed as quietly as I could. But even before I reached the bottom of the steps, I heard a faint calling.
"Help... help... Is anyone out there? Help..."
It was my dad. What in the world was wrong? Was he talking in his sleep? I quietly moved closer.
"Help... Someone? Anyone? We're stranded on a raft and it's cold!"
I about wet my pants I was laughing so hard! Thankfully they were laughing as well. My poor parents. We had turned the heat down before bed as we normally did, but had forgotten to take into account how chilly it would feel on a "raft", out in the middle of Living Room Bay, in the winter, with only a couple of light blankets.
We learned our lesson and have become a little more gracious in our hosting. We sleep on the air mattress, let our guests sleep in our bed, and make sure we turn the heat up!