The Fiercest Battle

Every night my wife and I get settled in under the covers. We give each other a kiss and say, "I love you".

Beautiful, isn’t it?

But that is where the congeniality ends… and the savage battle begins.

A battle… for space and covers.


A battle where acreage is gained or lost inch by inch through the fighting of which the rules of engagement do not apply.

I am talking, of course, of sharing a bed.

When I was single, my bed seemed huge! It was like having a back yard in my bedroom. (Sometimes when I awoke in the night and had trouble getting back to sleep, I would just get up and wander around my bed for awhile, always amazed at what wonder I would discover… ok, I’m making that up, but work with me here, I’m leading up to something)

So how is it that getting married and adding one small person to this huge posturepedic expanse would leave me without sufficient room to sleep, let alone wander.

When I sleep, I SLEEP…and I need room I need to be able to roll, kick and thrash (much like a person does when they are grabbed by a crocodile…and least that’s what Paul Hogan said in Crocodile Dundee…and he has never steered me wrong).

In getting married, this can no longer be done without causing great bodily harm to my wife.

She, as well, felt as though her personal sleeping area was being threatened by the co-existence.

Thus, the battle began.

A push here and a scoot there eventually became a kick here, and an "accidental" arm stretch to the chops, there.

I became so accustomed to fighting over every precious inch that I was soon able to carry on the combat even after falling asleep.

In the morning, my wife would say things like,"you mean you don't remember standing over me wielding your pillow like a samurai sword and screaming to the Lord Almighty above that you couldn't take anymore?”

Thinking I was being clever, I tried constructing a barrier down the middle of the bed with two by fours (painting it a very pleasant beige, might I add). But it was not meant to be as I returned from work one evening to find that my wife, who claims to have no carpentry skills whatsoever, had torn down and perfectly rebuilt the barrier a foot more in her favor.

Touché.

The bed space is not the only area that is fought over. The covers are as well.

At times, I don’t want any covers on me. (I may be hot and trying to cool off) My wife thinks that this is a sign that she can wrap herself up in the covers like a burrito and go to sleep. I have, without success, tried explaining to my wife that that does not mean I do not want covers throughout the entire night, just at this precise moment.

Other times, I will be sleeping soundly when a sudden chill awakens me. I look around and discover that I am no longer covered, but rather, uncovered. My wife, while in a sleeping state, yanked the covers, sheets, blankets off of me and again wrapped herself up like a burrito.

After years of fighting and lack of sleep, I tried to come up with a viable solution (you think drafting an Iraqi Constitution is hard, try writing an husband/wife equal cover-sharing concept agreement).

Separate covers. She has hers, I have mine. We still share a sheet, but for blankets, we are on our own.

And we couldn’t be happier.