Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Pillow Talk

Woke up a little late this morning. This is becoming a habit. Might as well start setting my alarm for 4:15 because that is when I am now dragging my ass out of bed. But I am afraid that means I will shift over to getting up at 4:30.

I have to have ten minutes to blow dry my hair. Does that make me sound like the most high maintenence bitch ever or what? Seriously. I do about three minutes worth of makeup, brush my teeth for two (I only know this because of my Sonicare) but it takes ten minutes to do the blow drying of the hair. Add a five to seven minute shower to the mix and three to five minutes to find the correct underwear to wear with pre-selected outfit (only about a minute to put on said outfit) and of course five minutes to find my fucking keys. The latest I can get up and not have to scrimp on any of these steps is 4:18.

Not that you give a shit.


Bed space is getting entirely too territorial at my house. I noticed this last night when J came to bed late (10:30 WHOOO we are wild!) and had to wake me up so that he could fit in the bed. We have a queen-sized bed. Neither of us is even close to six feet tall. Neither of us is even close to 200 pounds (in fact both of us are very far from that). We have to dogs that with their weights added together may be the size of a cocker spaniel. But the queen-sized bed. Is too small.

I am a bed hog. We can start there. I talk in my sleep (or sing)(that Stars Spangled Banner SHUT UP) and I also am a tosser. If I am not sleeping right (in which case I don't move at all) I do tumbling passes that I would have no hope of doing awake. J is also a talker (not a singer) and a tosser. He has to sleep in a certain position for his back and this involves a HUGE body pillow (normally reserved for pregnant women). Our two dogs like to sleep either between us, between my legs, on J's head, or spread out as long as they can get in the middle. That is the entire list of where they will sleep. SO COMFORTABLE.

I have to have covers on. Except one leg, which is for ventilation I suppose. I can't wear socks to bed. Ever. My feet can't breath (this mental illness brought to you by my mother). J likes to wear socks to bed. If it's hot be may wear that and shorts. But the socks are usually there. Until it gets really cold I like to have the windows open. Cold air on my face and then almost unbearably hot with a down comforter. And I have to have my side of the bed. No matter where I sleep.

Isn't it weird how everyone has a side of the bed? J and I have slept on the same sides since we got together--we tried to switch for a night but both of us slept like crap and woke up with headaches. I honestly think that if we didn't have side compatibility we would not be married. This is way more important than love or the same goals. Honestly.

I got out of bed this morning and there was a mad dash by J, Darla and Buster to suck up that space. As always, Darla won. I think she hears my alarm in the morning and cheats a bit by scooting herself into a better position. She was laying diagonal across my side with her paws stretched as far as they would go when I got into the shower. The only way J was getting the extra room was with a crowbar.


When I was younger I never really let people spend the night. I liked to sleep by myself. I had lived with a man who was double my size and I think I didn't sleep the entire time we were together. I felt like he might roll over on top of me and smother me in my sleep.

But poor J didn't have an actual bed when I met him. He slept on a futon mattress on the floor. Seriously. Twenty year old men wouldn't even live in apartments if allowed. Just on the street with a blanket and a bottle of Jaegermeister. Anyway, at that point he had been on a futon or in a Navy rack for so long he had really forgotten how great a real bed could be. I, on the other hand, had a lovely (if only a double) mattress purchased by my parents. So it wasn't even cheap.

He slept over a lot. Enough that I wondered if he liked me or the bed. But then again, I wouldn't stay the night at his apartment. Not only was mine a lot nicer and in-city but he didn't have an actual bed (he bought the mattress we use now shortly there after).

But I remember that about him more than anything. That I never felt uncomfortable with him sleeping there. That somehow everything fit together in a way that worked. And he didn't even try for my side but settled into the side I wanted him to have. And he always let me have the good pillows (something that is still true).

How romantic, we fell in love because of pillows. Seriously. Look out Dr. Phil.

6:10 a.m. :: comment ::
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