Everybody sleeps differently. Some people lovingly cuddle, others are violently territorial. Some never make a sound, others converse in unintelligible languages. Some greet the morning looking refreshed, others look as though they have been through battle. I posses all of the less than desirable sleeping characteristics. I often leave my bedmates to wonder… is this the same person?
Each extremity dominates a corner of the full size bed. My head rests comfortably between both pillows. My body heeds no boundaries. All covers either wrap around me like a burrito or surrender as a wrinkled pile on the floor. Little pools of drool collect on the sheets. I wake up with a side ponytail, twisted pajamas, and a limp. My voice sounds like I smoke about ten packs of cigarettes a day. I twirl my feet because it calms me down. My sleeping habits do not represent my personality. I promise…
My husband’s sleep style perfectly epitomizes him. His sleep manner is sweet, loveable, caring, and snuggly. Ugh. He loves to cuddle and nuzzle. I know. That’s every girl’s fantasy. He likes to whisper good morning in my ear. His hair either does a cute, little cowlick in the back or looks like he spiked it into a flattop. He seldom wanders to my side of the bed. A serial Sleep Warrior happened to marry a Siesta Sweetie.
The problem is that I take advantage of my husband in bed… unconsciously, of course. Last night, I awoke as he gently prodded my shoulder.
“Um, sweetie, can you share a little bit?”
I had stolen all of the covers which left him frozen and feeble. I passed over a few inches of blanket.
“Thanks.”
I felt another poke a few hours later, but this time on my head.
“Um, are you okay? You’re drifting pretty far down. Don’t you like me?”
I had wiggled to the end of the bed so that only my torso touched the mattress. My feet dangled millimeters from the wooden floor. I grunted. I’ve been wiggling down the bed a lot. Not sure exactly what it means, but it’s something new.
“I just want you to be comfortable, Kitten.”
My alarm buzzed at 6:30am this morning. I squinted through partially closed eyes and stretched my toes. The side of my head ached where my ponytail had moseyed during the night. I rubbed my lower back where a dull ache lingered from the odd position in which I had slept. I fumbled for my glasses and looked at the angel sleeping next to me. How this Nap Nazi got so lucky, I’ll never know. I just count my lucky sheep, um, stars, every night.
My husband’s sleep style perfectly epitomizes him. His sleep manner is sweet, loveable, caring, and snuggly. Ugh. He loves to cuddle and nuzzle. I know. That’s every girl’s fantasy. He likes to whisper good morning in my ear. His hair either does a cute, little cowlick in the back or looks like he spiked it into a flattop. He seldom wanders to my side of the bed. A serial Sleep Warrior happened to marry a Siesta Sweetie.
The problem is that I take advantage of my husband in bed… unconsciously, of course. Last night, I awoke as he gently prodded my shoulder.
“Um, sweetie, can you share a little bit?”
I had stolen all of the covers which left him frozen and feeble. I passed over a few inches of blanket.
“Thanks.”
I felt another poke a few hours later, but this time on my head.
“Um, are you okay? You’re drifting pretty far down. Don’t you like me?”
I had wiggled to the end of the bed so that only my torso touched the mattress. My feet dangled millimeters from the wooden floor. I grunted. I’ve been wiggling down the bed a lot. Not sure exactly what it means, but it’s something new.
“I just want you to be comfortable, Kitten.”
My alarm buzzed at 6:30am this morning. I squinted through partially closed eyes and stretched my toes. The side of my head ached where my ponytail had moseyed during the night. I rubbed my lower back where a dull ache lingered from the odd position in which I had slept. I fumbled for my glasses and looked at the angel sleeping next to me. How this Nap Nazi got so lucky, I’ll never know. I just count my lucky sheep, um, stars, every night.
2 comments:
While we were gone on a 10 day cruise, (Grandpa Phil and Grandma Sue)the blog has picked up steam - and all for the good. We are now of singular mind -'if only Palm Harbor were as interesting as being newlyweds in New York City.' Wow! And, Elizabeth, we like your style. a lot.
Bonaire and Aruba were pretty bland,but Dominica and Grenada were wonderful, and the ship, the
Emerald Princess, was marvelous.
it's ironic that your sleep concerns mirror those of mine and my husband...only in my case it was my husband the other night who was yelling at me to move over when my entire body was taking up a generous four inches of our entire bed. sweet dreams.
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