Wednesday, June 5, 2013
We have too many pillows on the bed. It reminds me of the scene in Regarding Henry where he first comes home from the hospital and goes to bed. He lays down - or tries to - but there are too many pillows to let him get horizontal. He reaches behind his head and pulls them out, one at a time, and flings them across the room.
I do this every night.
I have a pillow or two for under my head. My man has the same. And since we have a large bed, there is another one or two to fill out the row. And then there are two large decorative pillows and two small ones on top. And somehow, there are no fewer than six other pillows in the middle. Why?
I have to have a taller pillow to support my shoulder or I'll have pins and needles in my arm and hand the next day. All day long. And it can't be too hard or I wake up with an earache. And it can't be too soft or I feel like I'm suffocating.
His pillows have to be right so he doesn't strain his years-ago-dislocated shoulder. And so he doesn't make too much noise while sleeping. And a few more for tucking around here and there.
I'm feeling like a picky eater, writing this out. It shouldn't be this difficult, should it? So we keep shopping for the "right" pillow, and accumulate all the fails. One day we'll find a great one. Maybe. Actually, I'm giving up hope.
Meanwhile, we have plenty of ammo for a great pillow fight. Wanna come over?