My Sleeping Situation
The bed has always been a special place for me. As a kid I was a professional boxer beating up my opponent (pillows) and then not letting him fall so I can beat him up some more for my fans. Or a running back in the NFL trying to continue my streak of NEVER being tackled. EVER. Just laying sideways with my pillows as attempted tacklers and the wall as the ground I sprinted across at a lighting-quick pace. I can recall checking to see if my brother was asleep yet so we could whisper about... girls. I used to see the men on TV shows get in arguments with their wives and end up sleeping on the couch. I vowed at the tender age of six that I would never be that guy. The bed was mine.
When I was single and less mature (very early 20s), I went out and bought a HUGE bed. This bed was made of Birchwood tree branches. It was kind of like the bed in the picture to the right, but not as high up (though close) and thicker posts. But you get the idea. It was the bed of a hunter-gatherer. It let visitors know that I was indeed an animal. The headboard posts were taller than I am! I loved that bed. It was a great conversation piece when I gave a tour of the place. I would sleep smack in the middle of my big bed and contemplate world domination. This bed was made for world domination! Unfortunately, after a few relocations that bed lost its sturdiness. It wasn't exactly like I could get the guy in Alaska that built it to come and put it back together every time I moved. Once I started putting rolled up pieces of tissue in it to keep parts of the headboard from falling out of place and smacking me in the head, I knew that bed had run its course. Swedie wasn't much of a fan of that bed as you can probably imagine. To her it was a giant wooden reminder of my irresponsible past. It didn't last long after our vows were exchanged.
- If she's mad, then she should sleep on the couch!
I still feel this way. If I sleep on the couch it's because I dozed off while watching the game or a movie. Not because Swedie's mad. Maybe I'm lucky because we don't have arguments like that. Our spats are done with before bedtime. But even a big fight. Like the BIGGEST fight of all time wouldn't make me say:
- I'm so angry at you that I will sacrifice the comfort of my bed and give you more space and comfort!
I'm just not built like that. If I do go to bed angry (thankfully hasn't happened yet), I'm more likely to say something incredibly mean and then take the lion's share of the covers. That's where I'm at with my level of maturity.
When I was single and less mature (very early 20s), I went out and bought a HUGE bed. This bed was made of Birchwood tree branches. It was kind of like the bed in the picture to the right, but not as high up (though close) and thicker posts. But you get the idea. It was the bed of a hunter-gatherer. It let visitors know that I was indeed an animal. The headboard posts were taller than I am! I loved that bed. It was a great conversation piece when I gave a tour of the place. I would sleep smack in the middle of my big bed and contemplate world domination. This bed was made for world domination! Unfortunately, after a few relocations that bed lost its sturdiness. It wasn't exactly like I could get the guy in Alaska that built it to come and put it back together every time I moved. Once I started putting rolled up pieces of tissue in it to keep parts of the headboard from falling out of place and smacking me in the head, I knew that bed had run its course. Swedie wasn't much of a fan of that bed as you can probably imagine. To her it was a giant wooden reminder of my irresponsible past. It didn't last long after our vows were exchanged.
As a man [insert neanderthal grunts here], my sleeping setup is important to me. I have to sleep closer to the door. I am the protection that she and Bash needs. Next to my side of the bed is my night stand. In the top drawer is my "dagger". It's always ready. Swedie thinks I'm playing, but if somebody runs up in our bedroom, she'll be thankful that I'm closest to the door and I have an old, rusty military bayonnette nearby. That and my trademark war cry and our bedroom is the last place an intruder wants to enter.
So my routine is set. Closest to the door. Dagger nearby. War cry on deck. But then Bash comes along. This little guy is cute and all, but come on, son! You're jacking up the system. I crawled into bed last night at 2am after watching Holland lose in the World Cup semifinal (shoulda used the gangster goalie) and then watching an old Dolphins victory to make me feel better. I realized that this sleeping situation was some bullshit! As I unsuccessfully tried to slide the right side of my body onto the bed, it came to me that I've been ambushed! Bash has about 30% of the bed. He is not even as long as my pillow! Swedie takes up about 45% of the bed and most of that is PROTECTING Bash. Then there's Jasper's little punk ass. Jasper's our dog that I thought we had forgotten about since we got a real baby, but I guess that isn't the case after 10pm. He get's 10% of the bed!
Now I'm not claiming to be a genius or anything, but this doesn't add up. There's only 15% of the bed left and I'm the biggest thing in the room. And last I checked, the giant tree bed is dismantled and dumped in a swamp somewhere in New Jersey because somebody doesn't like reminders of my past. So I'm stuck on this sliver of a queen-sized matress resting my right arm on my all important night stand to keep me from falling onto the floor.
It didn't used to be like this. We used to sleep damn near interlocked in the middle of the bed. Then back to back (that's when you know it's love). Then Bash came along and he was in the middle. But I don't know what I did to get human shielded out of any possible level of comfort. The most annoying thing is looking over and seeing Bash so comfortable and then seeing MILES of EMPTY MATTRESS on the other side of him. My wife is so beautiful when she's asleep. Like an angel... But last night I wanted to drive my knees into the lower spine of an angel.
- SCOOT OVER!
Now I'm not claiming to be a genius or anything, but this doesn't add up. There's only 15% of the bed left and I'm the biggest thing in the room. And last I checked, the giant tree bed is dismantled and dumped in a swamp somewhere in New Jersey because somebody doesn't like reminders of my past. So I'm stuck on this sliver of a queen-sized matress resting my right arm on my all important night stand to keep me from falling onto the floor.
It didn't used to be like this. We used to sleep damn near interlocked in the middle of the bed. Then back to back (that's when you know it's love). Then Bash came along and he was in the middle. But I don't know what I did to get human shielded out of any possible level of comfort. The most annoying thing is looking over and seeing Bash so comfortable and then seeing MILES of EMPTY MATTRESS on the other side of him. My wife is so beautiful when she's asleep. Like an angel... But last night I wanted to drive my knees into the lower spine of an angel.
- SCOOT OVER!
I was THIS close. THIS close to sleeping on the couch. But I'm a grown man now. And I've got principles. My neck hurts. Until next time...
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