Detachable limbs — It’s a practical thing.

The nerves of my arm are either taking their leave, or little pinhead stars are sending electric shock Morse code messages, that I can’t read, up and down the length of it, or it has a dull throb. All due to lack of circulation. The lower arm, that is, when I’m laying on my side; the arm on the bed. The one that forms a wedge between my person and I when we’re trying to connect epidermally. The one that doesn’t know where to be.

His, (lower arm — particularly elbow) is usually embedded into some part of my anatomy in its quest to belong somewhere.

It’s not a great epiphany that comes to me. It’s logic. Detachable limbs! It makes perfect sense. This comes to me in the middle of the night as an elbow forms an indent in the soft place of my arm where a bicep should be.

Top arms are fine. Top arms are wonderful for wrapping around each other and pulling in close. Bottom arms, well, they just can’t get it together, can they? They are simply impractical and to be able to detach them is the most logical solution.

He turns over and the elbow of my bottom arm nestles into a space in his back and my hand sits about my throat as though proving a point to my thoughts.

I want to tell him.

Is he asleep?

Perhaps I’ll just whisper and see what gives.

He shifts.

I seize the opportunity.

“Is my arm making you uncomfortable?” I whisper (quite loudly)

“A little”

Yes! He’s awake!

So I pitch my idea to him, excitedly, even though I try to sound nonchalant,

“I was thinking that we should have detachable limbs”

“That’s profound, baby”

“Isn’t it! I mean, the bottom arm is always in the way and struggles to find comfort”

He turns back over, but I can’t see his expression in the dark.

I’m sure it’s one of great admiration.

I continue,

“I’ve given it some serious thought, I’ve followed through, all the way to what to do about blood supply. It would have to be wireless. Legs are not so bad, they intertwine nicely, they hug, they find a space, y’know? They come straight out of the torso. It’s the arms, popping out of the sides that are a problem. I’m not sure that the Creator thought this through.”

“You’re a fucking genius, baby” he says wryly

I’m on a roll,

“I even thought about teeth, they’re not limbs but there are some activities in which teeth grossly increase the risk factors! We should be able to take them out and put them into a glass of something hygienic on our pedestals, like Nana used to do. I’m sure Gummi bears dont have to contemplate teeth risks, hey? What do you think?”

“It’s the twenty first century. If you’re going to have detachable limbs with wireless blood supply then why go archaic with the teeth? I think you should make them retractable”

I think, ‘Shit! That’s clever’ and my heart osmoses a little more into his.

“We’ll be able to retire early if you keep thinking like this”, he sounds sleepy.

It’s 3:00am, my thoughts are clear at 3:00am. I feel my thought cogs turning over all possible scenarios. What happens in the case of a malfunction? Malfunctioning retractable teeth could cause some serious damage. Before I can pitch that to him, I hear slow deep breaths.

He’s asleep. I feel quite pleased with myself and let him sleep, happy in the knowledge that I am working on our early retirement plan.