When I married the hubs, there was the normal blending of family traditions and idiosyncrasies. One thing his family does that I was not familiar with is “seat lock.” Seat lock is when a person leaves a place where they are sitting, if they yell, “seat lock,” then they get to sit there when they come back. If, say, they don’t know about seat lock because they’ve only been on three dates with a member of the family, they lose their comfortable spot on the couch and have to sit on the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t take me too long to figure out the rules, so I can now defend my comfy chair at family events.
Our little dog is the queen of “seat lock.” Mainly because she only has a few places she likes to sit, and she has made those places so covered with dog hair that no one would want to sit there unless armed with a jumbo lint roller.
I think it’s normal to be attached to a particular place, and claim it as your own. This last week I even talked to the hubs about this in my sleep. That’s right, I am the one sleep talking this time.
Apparently, the hubs woke up in the middle of the night to me yelling. He said that our conversation went like this:
Me: It’s my spot…. MY SPOTTTTT!!!!
Hubs: You’re ok, honey, just go back to sleep.
Me: You’re not listening to me. This is my spot!
Hubs: Yes, honey, you’re sleep talking.
Me: It’s my spot, my spot, my spot!!!
I asked him what he did after all of this commotion, and he said, “I rolled over and went back to sleep as you continued to repeat ‘my spot,’ over and over…. There was no winning.”
Well, ok then. I guess he knew that I would definitely call “seat lock” on this spot that I apparently cared about so much!