The Kitchen. Too many knives and scalding-hot waffle irons. I once knew a guy whose wife, during the climactic conclusion of a quickie near the matching cookie and spice jar set, grabbed a turkey thermometer from the countertop and buried it three and a half inches into her husband’s left ear.
The Bathroom. Seems safe? Wrong. One word. “Toilet.” Eventually, one of you will think about a time it backed up.
The Garage. Don’t even think about it. This is YOUR room. If you make love (to your wife; not to the leaf blower) in your tool castle, then part of that kingdom becomes the emotional property of your spouse. In less than a week, you’ll find scented potpourri near your belt sander and a dried-flower-fancy-ribbon-thing hanging from your weed whacker.
The Spare Bedroom. Just for a change of pace, right? Come on! Haven’t you learned anything yet? Remember who previously slept in there? Relatives, like your parents and in-laws! They might as well just hop on your bare back and ride along because their poltergeists remain in the mattresses for up to 19 months.
The Return Air Ventilation Shaft. I know – technically not a room. But avoid the temptation of this space. While it’s tantalizing to feel the cool air rush past your perspiring bodies as they’re jammed inside the vent, remember that the filters contain tiny, microscopic particles that, if inhaled, could burst a lung. And that could be a turn-off, depending upon your standards, if you have standards.
(next week: Mattress Spring conclusion and Erotica at Home Depot)