Going To Bed Angry
There is conflict in every marriage, no two people can live together for as long as my wife and I have without having disagreements. There is one battle that we return to quite frequently, a divisive issue that both sides feel very strongly about - which sheets to put on the bed.
Let me start by saying that my wife is always cold. She is happy when she is wearing pajama pants, socks, a long-sleeve top, and buried under three layers of bedding. I can’t even think about that for too long without becoming uncomfortable. As you may have already guessed, I am always hot at night, especially from my knees to my feet. This is strange because I have ridiculous skinny legs that, you’d assume, would be forever cold - but no. When you add to the equation the fact that I’m mildly claustrophobic, you begin to understand my predicament. I say mild claustrophobia because I only experience it in certain situations, like when I have to crawl under the bed to reach something, or have a particularly tight seat assignment on an airplane, or when trapped under multiple layers of bedding that I just know I will get tangled up in and be unable to move. This is why I sleep above the covers for nine months out of the year. Somewhere in the space between us on the bed, the temperature is perfect - not cold, not hot, just right. When my youngest was a little guy, he would say that the most comfortable place on earth was sleeping between us. No wonder, it was an ideal microclimate, providing the optimum conditions for a normal human body. My wife would be happiest if she could have flannel sheets, but knowing I would opt for the couch instead, she denies herself those in favor of fabrics that are not as “cozy”. The kind she has on the bed now are pretty weird. I don’t know what it’s made of. It has a thread count of about 1, and feels like a heavy dropcloth. I want no part of it.
It must be stated that I am not some delicate flower when it comes to sleeping. In fact, I can nap just about anywhere - in my car, a breakroom, or the bleachers during little league practice. I have, on many occasions, taken a nap sitting against a tree at a music festival with thousands of people walking around me and 120 decibels thumping in my chest. It’s just those demonic sheets that keep me tossing and turning.
So, the battle rages on with no end visible on the horizon. I’ve heard that they make sheets that are half flannel and half cotton. That might be worth looking into, maybe then we can reach some kind of accord. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure my wife will eventually smother me with my pillow, roll me off the bed, and then put on whatever goddamn sheets she wants.
