Sleeping in the Middle of the Bed
I decided it was time. It was a weird night.
For just short of two years, I have maintained my side of the bed. The left side facing the bed. I don’t move much when I sleep so I would venture to guess I take up about 14 square feet of real estate in a California King.
The other side of my bed is not occupied by a person but a wide array of miscellaneous things: a few books, highlighters, pens, my laptop, bobby pins, decorative pillows, a perpetually unread copy of The New Yorker.
Interestingly, when I go on vacation, I sleep in the center of the bed. I became a bed glutton. I hog the whole thing and use every pillow available in the place. Never do that at home. At home, I squeeze right up to the edge.
I decided that last night would be the night I would take over what I had previously joked to be the “Bed Demilitarized Zone.”
My ex-husband was not very affectionate. He wasn’t a cuddler. When we slept, he slept on his side and I slept way…over…there. Occasionally, I could coerce him into spend a few fleeting moments in the Bed DMZ.
It was about six and a half minutes of cuddling. About as long as we could go before I could hear him thinking, “Are we done now?”
Initially, I was excited about this new idea. I moved the pillows to the center with authority. Damn straight! I’m in this. Middle of the bed! Yes! Happening! Then it got weird.
11:30 pm — The cats. Sweet baby Jesus in the manager. What the hell is wrong with these things? Are they broken? They’re up. Everyone needs to be up, apparently. Sleeping in the middle of the bed means they could attack me from both sides. Simultaneously. I was vulnerable! One meowed at me. The other poked my face. She friggin’ poked me. In the face. There was flailing of arms.
12:30 am— The moon is full? Who ordered that? Holy brightness. Can someone turn that thing down? We get it, Moon. We dig you. Wait. What are you? Alexa, what is the moon? Okay. Good. You’re a super cool satellite. Get out of my face.
1:30 am —Post on social media. Everyone’s day went well? Anyone else up? No? Just me? Okay.
2:15 am — It’s hot. What the hell am I supposed to do with my leg? I can’t exactly throw it out and flip it on top of the covers. I mean, I’m tall but this is stupid. It’s a California King for the love of God! I’ll just sweat. This is fine.
3:00 am — Still hot. Maybe if I take all the covers and ball them up in the center of the bed with me, I can throw my leg out of them and be kind of cool. Nope. I feel like a dung beetle. I’m not a dung beetle.
4:00 am — Screw it. This sucks. I hate this. I want my side back. I love my side. It makes me happy.
Interestingly, after having given up, I move the decorative pillows from the floor back to the bed. I like to think they appreciated it. I’m sorry, pillows.
That was a horrible failure. I thought it would be liberating. It sucked. At least I know now.
We find our power in weird places. I know a lot of people who have found taking over the whole bed incredibly empowering. I find my power in having choice, wisdom and knowledge. These things only require 14 square feet.