I Bear-ly Slept Last Night

It’s often nice to have someone to sleep with, unless that someone is a cover-hogging, black bear type. Sleeping with my hubs is like goat wrestling at the rodeo. It sounds like fun, but sometimes it isn’t.

K has a bad habit of cover stealing. He also pulls the sheets untucked from the end of the bed. Sometimes at 2 or 3 in the morning, I wake up, unable to untangle my legs, completely encapsulated in a large king size sheet that has no beginning or end. (I can’t sleep with the sheets like that, so I am forced to re-smooth and re-tuck right then and there or else I would lie awake all night thinking, “the sheets are untucked, the sheets are UNTUCKED!!!” 

And though we have a king size bed, we typically use very little of it. I lie on a miniscule 5 or 6 inch portion right by the edge and he lays on me. I figure that we could easily go to a twin, open our bedroom up space wise, and add a latte machine in the corner. In addition, he has the core body temperature of a small black bear. I appreciate the waves of heat in the winter when I have cold feet, but most of the time it feels like sleeping while hugging a space heater set on high. And now with the Tamoxifen induced hot flashes, it borders on sleeping with a space heater, set on high, vacationing in Dante’s Inferno, in the hot season.

At times to garner a little relief, I kick him (softly, oh, so softly) in the leg so that he will move over. And he always does the same thing; he sits straight up in bed and in a puzzled voice says, “Babe, why did you kick me?” I usually answer something witty like, “just for the fun of it,” but my reply doesn’t really matter- he never remembers any of it in the morning anyway. And besides, I know, that he knows why I kicked him, it’s just a little game we play.

 I suppose it’s no coincidence that as he often reminds me; his love language is “touch” while mine seems to be “giving (soft) kicks in the leg.” Laters.