I envy Lucy Ricardo.

Last night I growled at my husband. It wasn't just a little "Grrr." It was a 3-AM-I-am-woman-hear-me-ROAR growl. He is an acceptable bed partner, usually. But last night, he decided to sleep on TOP of the covers. This was not okay with me and I made that very clear. "I CAN'T pull the covers when you're sleeping on top of them!" He allowed me to take all the bedding that I wanted. That was sufficient until 3 AM. I rolled over, tried to pull the covers over me, and was unsuccessful. So I pulled harder, trying to get my husband's lifeless body to move a little. I ended up tearing the sheet in half. These are new sheets, mind you. They were expensive.. the 1000 thread count kind. So you can imagine my frustration when every time I tried to move, my hands and feet would get entangled in all 1000 threads. I growled a mighty growl. He breathed louder and deeper. All I could think about was how lucky Lucy Ricardo was to have a separate bed from Ricky. A twin bed all to myself would be so much more luxurious than the king size one I was sharing with my heavy-sleeping husband.

But then again, sharing a bed does have occasional benefits. Besides the obvious ones, it is awfully nice to have a warm body next to you after having a nightmare. Last week, I dreamed that Ted Bundy had me handcuffed to his bed and was biting me all over my body. I woke up in a cold sweat and begged my husband to HOLD ME. As we cuddled, I swore to myself that I would never casually pick up a book on "serial killers" in Barnes and Noble again. I suppose a new pair of sheets is a small price to pay for a midnight bodyguard..