You know it’s fall when there is a crisp breeze, the leaves gently fly from the trees, the air turns colder and I spend about 10 minutes deciding the best way to kill my husband. Oh, stop judging me. It’s totally justifiable homicide, according to my extensive research that consists mainly of repeats of “Law & Order,” with a couple of “CSI” episodes thrown in so I know how to hide all the evidence.
Anyway, as it turns out, my husband of a million or so years is a total comforter hog. And that means during fall and winter, I am in imminent danger of freezing to death in my sleep. Hence, my desire to kill him.
Look, every single night we start the same way. Both of us under the comforter, all warm and snug. And every single night I wake up with Harry rolled in 99.9 percent of the comforter while I am covered with approximately one tiny, itty-bitty corner of the comforter that measures approximately 1-square-inch – and frankly that’s a generous measurement.
At that point the only thing keeping me from killing him is the fact that my hands are too cold to get a grip on his nice, warm neck.
Now I have tried everything to make this man give up some covers. I have tried getting a king-sized comforter for our queen sized bed. That worked for about two minutes. But it was two minutes of bliss. I snuggled into the comforter, nice and warm and confident that on that very night I would sleep without being interrupted by violent shivering. And I drifted gently off, lulled into sleep by the warm cocoon of the blankets that surrounded me.
And then bam! He tucked and rolled the entire comforter onto his side of the bed and there I was, freezing my buns off once again.
So then I tried the two-comforter trick. Basically, you take two smaller comforters, put them on the bed, and then cover those with one large comforter. The theory is that each person gets his/her own comforter and everybody stays warm and happy. Sadly, this is only a theory. I know this, because in real life, it doesn’t work. At. All. In fact, it makes things worse.
You see, I rolled into my comforter, while Harry rolled into his comforter and the larger one. And I don’t know how this happened, but my comforter ended up somewhere at the end of the bed in a pile and Harry ended up all snug and happy and rolled up like a burrito in the other two comforters.
So we tried it a second night. And still we ended up with Harry wrapped in warmth and me shivering like crazy – but with my feet wrapped in my comforter so tightly it cut off the circulation to my toes. Sadly, since toes are obviously a necessary part of my feet, another night of putting them in danger of frostbite wasn’t going to work.
Are you starting to understand my frustration? Because I’m really, really frustrated by this.
Look, we’ve even tried heated blankets. But then Harry sleeps too hot. At the beginning of the night, he steals all the dang blankets, right? And then in the middle of the night the heat makes him hot. So what do you think he does? Does he turn down the heat on his side of the blanket? Does he cover his wife’s shivering body with the excess blankets because he’s too hot to sleep?
Oh, heck no. He dumps them onto the floor. So the carpet stays warm and cozy all night long.
So here we are, well into fall. Or as I like to call it: the freezing season. Where the leaves fly gently from the trees, the air turns colder and I shiver myself to sleep every night.
