July 30, 2025

RAD RERUN!! Falling In Love

RAD RERUN!! Falling In Love
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Have you ever had anxiety about going to a funeral? (Yes, this is a dumb question. If you're here listening to us, you probably can find a reason to feel anxious about brushing your teeth.)

This is going to make you feel better. Because, the chances are very, VERY slim that you would do this. You won't. And that should help.

And, please, if you don't mind- reviews are our love language! So just click on those five stars and that can be your good deed for the day.

xx

๐ŸŒˆ Lost your EarPods? Procrastinating at your computer? Hate the sound of Jo's voice? Then you're in luck!

๐Ÿ€ All episodes are available for your reading pleasure at www.anxietyaddictsbedtimestories.com

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Need a 90-second life break to make you laugh and forget about the real world for an entire minute? Put your email in here for a good time: https://www.anxietyaddictsbedtimestories.com/Sweet dreams...xoxo

Jo & Morgan

WEBVTT

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To the restless, the insomniacs, the stressed out, the overwork

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the doom scrollers, the worried, and the board. This is

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for you. Good writing is meant to make you think.

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This is the opposite. Short, funny and unfortunately true stories

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that have mostly to do with nothing to help you

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turn off your brain and turn on your ram. All

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names have been changed to protect the guilty. These are

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anxiety addicts bedtime stories.

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Craig was funny, his family was not. They're just well,

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they're really uptight, Like, don't joke around too much because

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they won't laugh and that's a terrible feeling. Also, they

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take funerals very seriously. Craig stole a glance at Jennifer,

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his girl friend of six months, who sat in the

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passenger seat on the way to Omaha to meet her

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new boyfriend's family for the first time and attend his

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aunt's funeral. This was not the world's best situation for

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a familial introduction. Now, Craig and Jennifer had been separately

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divorced for about five years and were taking this new

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relationship slowly, which explains why she had yet to make

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the drive from Cedar Rapids to Omaha. Aunt Betty's health

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hadn't been great in years. She was ninety seven and

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a half and often called a firecracker of a woman.

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The night before she passed, she gathered her three sisters

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and brother in law into her room, where she meticulously

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read off a three page list of handwritten grievances about

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each of their personalities. Then she kicked them all out

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and died in her sleep. Before anyone could summon a rebuttal.

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That was Betty. She got the last word, and this

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thickened the family air with tension. They were devastated to

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have lost the eldest sister, the matriarch of the family,

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but also in a secret and very waspy way, they

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were all really pissed at her. Craig turned off the highway,

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reaching over to pat Jennifer on the knee. She was

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the best thing that had happened to him in years.

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They met at a concert after she tripped and accidentally

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dumped an entire plastic cup of cors Light all over

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the front of his wranglers. It very much looked like

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he pissed himself, and it was very awkward. When Jennifer,

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in her pink cowgirl boots tried to help him clean

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it up. They each had two children, girls for him

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and boys for her, from their previous marriages, and although

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they weren't rushing into a Brady Bunch situation, they were

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really looking forward to the day when that would become

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a reality. Got it, no jokes, of course, it's a funeral.

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Jennifer tried to appear somber, but she and Craig could

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not stop cracking up. When Craig's mother, Sharon called and

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reiterated all of Aunt Betty's personal gripes. Craig answered the call.

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Sharon didn't even bother with a hello. She said that

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I bring every conversation back to myself and that my

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tuna noodle castrole is inedible. My castrole is Grandma's recipe

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and everyone loves it. I'm probably the best cook of

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the family, although no one has ever appreciated me, Sharon continued,

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unbeknownst to her on speakerphone. Their weekend itinerary was pretty standard.

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They would stay at Craig's parents' house, go out to

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dinner at the local steak place Friday night, and attend

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the funeral on Saturday, with the wake back at the

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house Saturday afternoon. Craig had royally pissed off his mom

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by suggesting that he and Jennifer stay in a nearby hotel,

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and he knew that this would be a lot of

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time together as a family. His two girls would arrive

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Saturday morning. They'd heard so many great things about Jennifer

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and seen countless photos on their dad's newly discovered Facebook page,

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but had yet to meet her because of their college schedules.

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It was going to be a jam packed forty eight hours.

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When they pulled up into the recently swept driveway of

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his parents' split level home, Sharon was sitting on the

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porch swing, tapping her foot as if they'd kept her waiting.

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Her eyes watered ringed with red, a stark and vulnerable

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contrast to the bottom of her face, where her mouth

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was set in such a perfectly straight line of irritation

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that it looked like it could have been drawn with

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a ruler. Sharon had worked up until her retirement at

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a small real estate firm in town. She'd married her

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high school sweetheart, raised her children, paid off her mortgage,

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and considered her life to be a success. She went

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to church every Sunday, ironed every article of clothing in

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her closet and did not like pets. Like so many

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of us, Craig had decided that he wanted a very

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different life for himself. Poor Sharon almost blacked out when

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her eldest son came home from college and declared that

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he was going to pursue a career as a stand

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up comedian. It was okay, that didn't work out, but

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Craig did become a writer, and as of this story,

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he's published dozens of books, ranging from a series of

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children's titles to a well received memoir, and quite a

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few novels centering around Midwestern families. Sharon has read none

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of them. She prefers the Bible. Why would you try

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to compete with the ultimate storyteller, she asked him while

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he was visiting while on a book tour. They were

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at the stake place and Craig had down to martini,

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which partially dissolved both two olives and some of his boundaries. Wait, mom,

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he said, between SIPs, you think God wrote the Bible

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like with a pen? Craig laughed. His father studied his

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baked potato. Sharon looked at him as if she'd been

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slapped across the face by a complete strain. This dinnertime

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scuffle took place in mid June, and Sharon refused to

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speak to her son until Christmas morning. During those six months,

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she would only communicate through other family members. Unfortunately for Sharon,

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her level of passive aggressiveness earned her a point of

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inspiration for a character in his new book, which Craig

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felt safe and knowing that she would never read. So yeah,

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Like he said, the Thomas family was not exactly known

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for their sense of humor. Craig took Jennifer's hand and

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gave it a squeeze. Thank you so much for being here,

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and I'd like to apologize in advance for anything and

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everything that slips out of my family's mouth. They met

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Sharon in front of the house with a hug for

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Craig and an awkward handshake for Jennifer. She was my sister,

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Sharon wept into her son's ear. I'm so sorry, Jennifer offered.

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Sharon barely looked at her. Well, come on in, she

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said with a sigh, as if she wasn't the one

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who absolutely insisted on their presence. The house was exactly

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like you may have imagined. It posed. Family photos adorn

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the walls. A well loved floral sofa separated the kitchen

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from the living room. Two matching lazy boy recliners flanked

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the fireplace. It was clear that everyone in this family

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had their usual seat. Jennifer couldn't help, but wonder if

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there was a place for her. The Omaha rains started

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exactly an hour after their arrival and did not let up.

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Jennifer looked in her suitcase and cursed her choice of footwear.

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She'd brought tennis shoes, low heels for the funeral and

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higher heels for this dinner. Oh. She finished her makeup

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and met the family downstairs. We're going to Craig's favorite restaurant,

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Sharon announced to the family for the sixth time. But

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who was counting Craig His mother an encouraging smile. We

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do have a lot of good memories from Shorty's, don't we, mom? Yes,

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mostly with Lisa. Now, Lisa was Craig's ex wife. Since

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the divorce, Sharon took every opportunity to remind anyone with

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an earshot that she missed her. If this fact ever

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found its way back to Lisa, she would have enjoyed

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a solidly good laugh about it, because Sharon had been

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a miserable bitch to her for the entirety of the

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eleven year marriage, and now, said Craig, we can make

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new memories. Damn. He was good at being his mother's son.

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He picked up her quilted coat and helped his mom

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into it, then opened the side door for the family

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to file into the garage. Dinner was a ball full

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of laughter and drinks and fun and no wait, sorry,

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that was the table next to them. Next to the

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happy family, Craigs looked like they'd been pulled straight out

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of American Gothic, that iconic photo of the farmer, his

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wife and the pitchfork. They ordered soup, not salad for

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their starter, and all except for Jennifer got the steak special.

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Jennifer didn't know that everyone always ordered the same thing,

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and felt self conscious about her trout from the moment

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it was served until the table was cleared. She also

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had two glasses of wine and didn't realize that she

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was the only one who ordered a second round before

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it was too late. The anxiety in her stomach bubbled

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up to her throat as she tried to make small talk.

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Is this rain unusual for this time of year. Sharon

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gave Craig a genuine smile. She didn't mind trying. If

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this relationship progressed like she thought it would, she would

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plan to see these people twice a year tops. We

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need rain, replied Sharon. Everyone complains about the rain, but

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how else do you expect food to grow in the ground.

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No one knows where anything comes from nowadays. They just

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assumed the grocery stores open and the shelves are full.

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Sharon made a face that held enough contempt for anyone

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who had ever stepped foot into a Kroger. Jennifer saw

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on opening. I I actually worked at an al d

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all through my undergrad to get my degree. Stocking the

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produce was an oddly rewarding job. Sharon raised an eyebrow

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and then went back to reminding her husband that there

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would be no dessert since they were not out to celebrate.

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There is no winning with this woman, Jennifer thought, while

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folding her napkin and excusing herself from the table, accidentally

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bumping into a waiter carrying a coffee tray on her

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way to the bathroom. Standing at the sink, Jennifer reapplied

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her lipstick, straightened her skirt, and clasped the ankle strap

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of her heels one hole tighter as she felt a

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bit shaky. Droplets of coffee lightly stained her cream cart again.

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She breathed. Wished that Craig had been more forceful with

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his mother when he tried to book them into the

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local Hilton. Jennifer tried to focus her mind on meeting

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his daughters, Jane and Pamela, the next day. She loved

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her two sons dearly, but Jennifer was excited about having

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some daughter figures in her life. Her boys teased her

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shoe collection and never appreciated a new pair. Their trips

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together were always adventurous, whether hiking or whitewater rafting, but

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Jennifer was not exactly born with the coordination of a

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soccer star. These trips often ended with her, at best

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covered in band aids, and worst, at a trip to

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urgent care. She couldn't help that she found herself daydreaming

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about pedicures and movies with Craig's girls. She wiggled her shoulders,

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popped a piece of triy dead in her mouth, forced

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a smile, and willed herself back to the table of

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misery where thankfully, Craig's father was signing for the check.

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Thank you so much, Jennifer offered, it would be better

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if we didn't have to be here, Sharon remarked loudly

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to the entire restaurant. Jennifer bit her tongue literally. Her

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eyes welled up with tears as she tasted a drop

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of blood. Sharon noticed and found some softness in her voice.

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But yes, dear, thank you for being here. Oh, Sharon

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misread the watery eyes. Oh, well, thought, Jennifer serves her right.

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That night, Jennifer popped her melotonin and was moisturizing her hands.

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When Craig came to bed. He always looked so cute

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in his gray T shirt and plaid pajama pants. She

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couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in his direction. Not tonight,

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he laughed, These walls are paper thin, and he snuggled

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in under the covers next to her. You're doing so

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well with my mom. Why jeopardize anything. Jennifer couldn't help

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but laugh. She wondered when the house had last heard

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that sound. The next morning, over grocery store bagels and

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Folger's coffee, Jennifer did her best to help around the

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house with arrangements for the wake. Still she found herself

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being shoot out of the kitchen with the eleven different

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cast roles and then tripping over the family dog. Jane

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and Pamela showed up an hour before the funeral and

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had to stand in the vestibule for seven minutes to

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be fully chastised by their grandmother for being late, even

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though they arrived fully dressed and ready to go. It

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was really not a great set of circumstances to meet

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the girls. Everyone did their best to be polite and cordial,

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but the layer of tension that settled over the house

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felt like a giant weighted blanket, and not in like

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a comforting way. The rain continued, Sharon pulled out the

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golf umbrellas and galoshes as if God was throwing water

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down from the sky just to personally ruin her day,

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holding on to Craig's arm. At the cemetery, j Jennifer

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was introduced to far too many family members to keep

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track of. A sideless tent had been erected next to

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the grave site, but it was hardly any competition for

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the precipitation. The mood wasn't quite as depressing as the weather.

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No one appeared particularly heartbroken about Aunt Betty's passing, and

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the gossip regarding her three page manifesto had blossomed into

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a full blown familial catastrophe, with everyone whispering to each

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other about the old woman's grievances with this person and

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that The priest made a sweet but recycled speech about

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the meaning of life and finding joy in the everyday

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and mundane things. This was a message that the family

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outwardly nodded and agreed with, although Jennifer questioned whether anyone

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would take Father Paul's advice to heart ashes to ashes

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and dust to dust. The priest continued as mourners began

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to make their way to the casket to toss the

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fresh earth on top. Jennifer held tight to Craig's elbow

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and allowed him to guide her lower back towards the coffin.

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The slippery ground was a formidable foe to her green

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crock printed pumps. Jennifer reached down to take a handful

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of dirt to take part in sending Aunt Betty off

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to whatever awaited her next. And that was when it happened.

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That was when Jennifer's three inch heel pushed its way

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into the muddy ground, robbed her of her balance, and

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sent her yes falling right down into the grave below.

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The collective gasp could have been heard through the rain

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by mourners on the other side of the cemetery. Jennifer,

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in complete and utter shock, looked up to Craig as

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cousins and aunts and in laws pushed their way through

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the soaked grounds to see the spectacle. Jennifer gazed up

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at the dozens of extended family members lamoring to pull

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her out of the grave, and was frozen in disbelief

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of the reality of the moment. She heard buzzing and

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whispers and wait, and then a laugh. A huge, deep,

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guttural belly laugh sliced right through the quiet, the tension,

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and the rain. The attendees whipped their heads around, looking

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for the source of the inappropriate sound, and landed their

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eyes on Sharon. Yeah it was Sharon, Yeah, that is Sharon, Sharon,

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who possibly had not cracked a smile since the Nixon administration.

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The shock was palpable, but Sharon did not stop. She

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gasped for breath and wiped her eyes, only to clutch

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her stomach and double over. Jennifer tried to scramble up

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to see who was laughing, but slipped on the casket

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and fell yet again on dead Aunt Betty. This mad

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Sharon laugh even harder, and it was contagious. In under

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a minute, forty five people in Omaha stood under a

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failing tent in the pouring rain at Saint Michael's Cemetery,

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laughing their freaking faces off while burying a very old

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and cranky woman. Jennifer struggled again to get out of

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the hole in the ground, with Craig sinking his soux

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covered knees into the mud and pulling her up by

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her blazer like one would do for a person overboard

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with a life jacket on. Jane and Pamela rushed over

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to help their father and his girlfriend, but they were

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a mess. The laughter had attacked them to their core.

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They reached down for Jennifer, now covered in mud themselves,

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and with help from father Paul and two grave diggers

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standing under a nearby tree, managed to drag her off

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of old Aunt Betty out of the ground, where she

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sat in the grass and her mud soaked heels, and

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looked up at the rights groups surrounding her. Jennifer, Sweet, happy,

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bubbly Jennifer was the only one not laughing. She looked

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around the soaked tent at the dozens of faces with

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open mouths and wet eyes, slapping each other on the

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backs and hugging. She had no idea what was going on.

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She definitely had the wind knocked out of her. Craig

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wrapped his coat around Jennifer and carried her out to

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his truck, where she watched the spectacle out of the

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tinted window. She needed a drink. Back at the house.

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Anyone who didn't know the real circumstances would have thought

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it was a bunch of comedians having a birthday party

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rather than an extended family of Midwesterners having a wake.

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The laughter bled from the cemetery through Sharon's kitchen door.

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People ate and joked, and by all accounts, had the

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best time that anyone had ever had under that particular roof. Jennifer,

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after a shower, clean clothes, and a borrowed pair of

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Sharon's house slippers, was the bell of the ball. Great

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Uncle Charlie mined an impressive impression of her trying to

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climb out of the grave, and everyone agreed that it

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had been Aunt Betty's final goodbye, since she'd never met

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Jennifer and therefore never had the opportunity to insult her.

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That night, on the drive home after what had been

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an endless day, Craig couldn't help but replay the funeral

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over and over, cracking up each time he recounted seeing

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Jennifer fall in his head he saw it in slow motion.

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Jennifer rubbed her sore elbow, but knew that it was

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a small price to pay for that experience. She'd been

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welcomed by the family with open arms and Michigan bear hugs,

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was officially invited to Thanksgiving and Christmas. An uncle Charlie

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made her promise that, no matter what happened between her

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and Craig, she'd one day come to his funeral. But

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above all else, Sharon had took her aside, held her hand,

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and begged her to come back for a visit. This

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was not how Jennifer had envisioned winning over her boyfriend's

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mother and a year later, her mother in law, but

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Jennifer still made a point to only see them twice

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a year. Funeral or not.

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Thanks for listening. If you still can't sleep, why not

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do some shopping on the small business links at anxiety

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addictsbedtime stories dot com and support some really cool people.

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Don't forget to subscribe and to send us your stories

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Sweet dreams, M.