We have this pillow thing.
OK, not we. I. I have a pillow thing.
It turns out that I'm particular about pillows. Maybe it's congenital. My dad used to take his pillow when he traveled, and he traveled a lot.
He packed his pillow on one side of his brown hard-side Sampsonite. It was very flat, so didn't take up much room. I didn't really understand why you'd even take it, because it was almost like not having a pillow at all.
Now, thought I don't travel with mine, I get it.
We have king size pillows on our bed because Nick is enormous, although apparently just average in Texas, and we have a king size bed. So he bought us king size pillows.
And I'm a pillow smoosher. And this is impossible with such long pillows. So I also have a regular size pillow, soft, just the right softness, without being too flat.
If I were a dog, I would be one who inexplicably turns around like 500 times in the same spot just to get comfortable.
OK, so now let me be honest: I have three pillows. Two big ones because we had them, and then my regular sized one. I don't need three, but I do like two. Because I need to prop my small pillow up against a larger pillow so that it sits just right. The headboard is too slippery, and then it moves. It has to be a pillow.
I'm telling you. I used to be able to sleep soundly anywhere. On an overnight bus through the Andes. Piled into a single bed with friends. In a sleeping bag on wood slats with mice in the thatch overhead.
High maintenance annoys me, and yet I'm a picky sleeper. And sleep is one of my top priorities. This didn't used to be the case either.
Reality being such, inconvenient as it may be, these things are all true.
So.
Nick, who has his own two pillows, insists he doesn't need three. But when he reads in bed, he takes my perfect pillow to prop himself up. And then by the time I'm ready to use it, it's all warm from his head.
Part of the pleasure of a pillow is the cool against your cheek. Who, I ask, wants a pre-warmed pillow? We've exchanged words about this a variety of times. He's agreed to use one of my big pillows, which I offer happily.
Last night while arranging my pillow menagerie, I accidentally elbowed Nick in the head.
He said, "OW!"
Followed with, "You whacked me right where my horn would be if I were a unicorn."
I was all, "I am so sorry!" And then, "But actually, your horn would be further down towards your forehead."
He rubbed the top of his head and said, "No. This is exactly where my horn would be."
We spent some time debating that, both certain we were correct.
And then we kissed and said goodnight.
It wasn't until I was almost asleep that I thought, "If I were a unicorn?"
LOL. We have too many pillows and David just acquired another. After weeks and weeks of online shopping, review reading and localized fessing about which pillow would best suit him, he got the Purple pillow. He seems happy enough with it.
ReplyDeleteBut you know how when you get a new piece of furniture or paint a room, it makes everything else around it appear shabby? Yeah, now we're in to week 3 or 4 of online shopping for a new mattress.
So you know! You know! And yes, I know exactly what you're talking about. That's been our house, room by room. (Except it was more than shabby, it was rotting and stuff. :))
DeleteWe have also been through the mattress business! Nick's back was hurting terribly, and our mattress was old. So we tried one of the bed in a box mattresses--Casper--which has a guarantee. His back still hurt. They don't take it back; they donate to charity and refund your money. Now we have Saatva, which also has a guarantee, but he's very happy.
Except they don't donate, almost always trash it, because almost no place will take a used mattress. We're on mattress #5 from online companies. I'm sick thinking about the waste we've created.
DeleteIn our case, Casper didn't pick it up. They found a charity that would take it and connected us wth them. They took it directly.
Delete