Friday, June 19, 2009

Pillow Talk Revisited- The Start of War

I kissed Smoochie and Bonehead and shipped them out the door last night, sending them in the direction of St. Louis to go on a river float with one of Bonehead's best friends. The first annual float was last summer, and Smooch has been eagerly counting down the days until this trip. By now, they may very well be on the raft, floating and doing the "manly thing", and by "manly", judging from the way Smoochie's gas was clouding up the living room and making my tear ducts water yesterday, I mean gassing some fish and dropping some birds from the surrounding air currents.

I have a chronic problem any time Bonehead is not around. It started early on in our marriage when he'd be gone for months at a time out at sea, but it carries through to this day. Insomnia. I love my sleep, let me tell you. I can go to bed at 9pm, and not move until 7am the next morning- no problem. If I'm suffering a bout of depression, which has occasionally happened, 14 hours of sleep is not unheard of. However, I have not been afforded the luxury of depression sleep for quite some time now.

But when Bonehead departs the residence, all bets are off. All of the sudden I'm wide awake at 2a.m. and well aware of the early alarm of Critter's mom call. "Aah! AAH!!!!!" Even with that knowledge, I find myself unmotivated to go to bed earlier. And thus, I tried last night, and forced myself to go upstairs to bed at the early hour of 1a.m.

I walked up, and noticed right away something did not look right. I looked around, bewilderment showing on my face, because what I was seeing, I should not have been. Bonehead's side of the bed looked perfectly normal. 700 pillows piled up in his typical haphazard style, but my side?

Yep, yep, I see it. There's my body pillow, and my bottom pillow, but where the hell is my top pillow? Is it on John's half? No, no, it's not over there. Don't panic, Chas, it's on the floor. No, I don't see it there, either. OH. MY. GOSH. THE MAN TOOK MY PILLOW! I USE TWO PILLOWS AND HE HAD THE NERVE TO TAKE ONE WHEN HE'S GOT 700 OF HIS OWN MANGLED ONES SITTING RIGHT THERE!! BONEHEAD! YOU (insert not so pretty words that sound like they were learned from the sailor I married)!!! AT LEAST FOUR OF YOUR ELEVEN THOUSAND PILLOWS WILL BE BURNED IN THE FIRE PIT ON THE MORROW, I MAKE THIS SOLEMN VOW!!

I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning and sending pretty sailor adjectives in my husband's general direction. I have the biggest kink in my neck I have had in years.

I woke up this morning in a slightly better frame of mind, and thought I would razz my beloved Bonehead and send him a quick email, which I knew he'd receive on his cell phone. For the purposes of bloggertainment, I would like to share our exchange.

Me: Let me get this straight: You have 20 million gazillion pillows and you feel the need to take mine? Without asking even?

Bonehead: It was on my side. Steve's socks sure are cozy.

Upon the arrival of that email, I had a few thoughts along the lines of "oops, I forgot to pack his socks when I packed him up yesterday."

Me: You knew it was mine. You don't need socks with Tevas and water shoes. Unless you're eleventy years old.

Bonehead: And for Saturday and Sunday in my gym shoes?

Me: Nope, no, huh-uh. I'm not feeling guilty for forgetting. You're stopping at Walmart, grab some. I've got a horrible kink in my neck from using one of your hosed up lumps you've mangled into oblivion, and a panic attack knowing you're currently doing the same damn thing to mine. It will never be the same again. My virgin pillow has been absconded. You are deflowering my pillow. I have no forgotten sock guilt.

No response. I sent an email inquiring about the weather and Smoochie's current status. Still nothing. I can safely say that either Bonehead is ignoring me, or he has floated into the pages of Deliverance. Since my son is along for the float, I sincerely hope the man is simply ignoring his grouchy wife with an abnormally protective pillow attachment.

In closing, I leave you with my husbands facebook status, updated this morning: John is glad this is one of those "socks" optional vacations. They would hang me for this back in the old country.

Hey, what's the quickest kindest way to dye a gross of socks pink? Wink wink.


for a different kind of girl said...

Head to town and get yourself a new pillow and some of that fancy clothing dye and have yourself a party this weekend! :)

I sleep horribly when my husband is gone, so that's why I'm also suggesting you get some non-aspirin sleep tablets, too. Those things are a dream (literally, except you sleep so well, you practicallyl don't dream at all!). Take two, though. One is just a tease!

Mom said...

Yes I would buy myself a new pillow as you will probably not get yours back. The dye thing might not work unless you get a gross as I know you have more than one basket full.