Someones been sleeping in my bed.
Oh no, someones been sleeping in my bed too.
Oh yeah. We'll someones been sleeping in my bed and she's still in there!Or at least it sure looks that way.
My husband has to be contained within a 5,000 degree oven to remain at his optimal core body temperature when he sleeps. This is usually accomplished by a quilt that weighs about 30 pounds and could crush small mammals.
Most mornings when he gets up he pushes and mangles his blankets into weird shapes (and always closer to my side). There have been numerous times I've woken up and thought that he was still lying next to me when he'd already made a b-line for his computer hours ago.
It is a bit disconcerting to being so sure you're going to put your arm around a person and suddenly find you've pulverized their neck because they're actually full of down.
This picture probably crushes all those images you all had of me as the perfect 1950's domestic goddess. The beds aren't made (and are never made as it just seems like an exercise in futility to me), the decor doesn't even come close to matching, and the biggest horror or horrors we don't sleep in separate beds!
I'll just go and sew this giant Scarlett A on me now. Toodles.