My husband has now been occupying the small amount of mattress that usually belongs to me, for the last 7 nights. I just might lose my shit over this. It isn't enough that I'm tired, achy, and sore. No, I have to listen to my husband on top of it all. "Down South I have three big pillows. I'm not used to having to sleep like this. I don't have to share my bed down South with all these kids and dogs. Down South, nobody has to change the sheets in the middle of the night because the toddler wets the bed." Blah, blah, blah, etc.
Do I say, "up here, I don't usually sleep like a pretzel. Up here,I don't typically put the toddler to bed without a pull-up. Up here, I get to hog the dog to keep me warm. Up here, it's MY F#*KING BED! STFU about how good you usually have it and quit your bitching!" No, I don't say those things, but, at three in the morning when he wakes me up to complain about how crowded the bed is, I really *really* want to.
Now, I'm sure that when my hubby leaves, I'll miss him terribly. There is no doubt that I'll be sad when he goes. I'm pretty darn sure that laying on my bed, making 'clean linen angels' will cheer me up immensely though. The added bonus of being able to make clean linen angels on *my* bed, on the last Sunday of regular football season, while holding my newly repossessed remote control, and drinking my good beer...is enough of a fantasy for me to see a break in the clouds and hear the angels sing, through my current fog of abnormally sleep deprived irritability.