The battle of the bed
“STOP IT!” Husband-Head screamed shortly after we had gone to bed the other night. “I HATE when you do that! You’re torturing me!!”
I laughed quietly to myself.
“What?” I asked innocently from my side of the bed. “All I did was put my leg on top of yours. I thought it was a meaningful way of communicating my love and affection for you.”
“I’ll love and affection you up the wazoo if you don’t knock it off,” he huffed as he rolled over. “Now be quiet and let me go to sleep. I have to get up very early.”
But for some reason, I wasn’t very sleepy that night and I lay there awake in the dark wanting to talk.
I recently saw a program on TV that said “pillow talk” should not include topics such as the family bills or the fact that the car needs an oil change, so I decided to instigate a more intimate conversation.
“Honey … let’s talk about our relationship,” I suggested. “Do you still love me? … Do you think I’m pretty? … Do you really like my chicken and noodle casserole?”
“STOP IT!” Husband-Head yelled out. “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to go get a needle and thread and sew your lips shut like they do to dead people.”
I laughed out loud.
“I’d be scared except that I know you have no clue as to where the sewing box is,” I pointed out. “Because I know I sure as hell don’t.”
“And if you even think of throwing in the ‘do you think I’m fat?’ question, you’re going to be in really big trouble,” Husband-Head warned.
When words aren’t enough, there’s always the problem of who is hogging the covers on the bed and who is overstepping the bed boundaries.
“THIS is the line and you cannot cross it,” Husband-Head said, drawing an imaginary line on the middle of the king-sized mattress. “This is my dance space and that is your dance space.”
I half expected Patrick Swayze from the 1987 “Dirty Dancing” movie to come popping up out of the mattress. …
“Besides, bed space is determined by the equation of pounds per square inch,” he added. “So it only figures that I get more room than you do.”
The little matter of hogging the covers can be another bone of contention in the bed. Husband-Head and I have had very intense rounds of “tug-of-war” to try and keep what we feel is our rightful share of the comforter. “These are often control issues,” the expert on TV explained. “You need to give each other space.”
I solved this problem by purchasing us each our own comforters.
“Maybe we should get our own beds, too,” Husband-Head suggested enthusiastically. “We could be like June and Ward Cleaver!”
He was referring to the 1950’s television show “Leave It to Beaver,” in which June and Ward slept in separate single beds. Well, at least on TV they did. …
“We have a king-sized bed,” I responded. “There should be plenty of room.”
“Yeah, but there’s not because we have two 100-pound dogs sleeping in it with us,” Husband-Head retorted. “It’s like having four people in a bed.”
Unfortunately, the bedroom isn’t large enough to add another single bed to the king-sized bed.
Another small problem is that of the “whodunnit.”
“Oh my GAWD!” either Husband-Head or I will scream, pulling the covers over our head. “That is rank!”
The obvious answer is to always to blame it on the dogs, whom ” I might add ” are many times the guilty party.
Snoring is another activity we always deny, although each of us accuses the other of doing it.
“I have to push your head around to get you to stop,” Husband-Head informed me.
“I put my finger in your mouth to make you quit,” I admitted.
Then there’s the alarm clock. Because of our individual schedules, Husband-Head and I get up at different times during the week.
“Hit the button!” Husband-Head will yell when the thing goes off.
“YOU hit the button!” I yell back. “It’s not my turn to be the button-hitter.”
I solved this problem as well by buying us each our own clocks.
But in the end, the battle of the bed ends with a sign that hangs on our bedroom wall.
“Always kiss me goodnight.”
Heidi Rice is a staff reporter for the Post Independent. Her column runs every Friday. Her new book collection of columns, “Skully Says Shut It!” is available for purchase at the Post Independent or by visiting her web site at http://www.heidirice.com.
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