Bed Princess

I am the bed princess. I have to have things just right to sleep at night.

1.    I can’t have a freaking duvet cover. They are rough and my sensitive skin feels it with every pore and hair follicle. Duvets feel like sandpaper on my skin. Duvets make me want to go into full body convulsions. They make my blood boil in a way that few other things do. To me, a duvet is the equivalent of wearing super tight pants with even tighter underwear on below. It’s like an errant piece of plastic from a cut price tag poking my hip. It’s coat hangers that are hooked together when I just want one.

2.    I also, apparently, need 5 inches of pillow or comforter between my legs. First, no comforter between the legs (skin on skin) is a nightmare. It’s bone on bone and a sweat machine. For some reason, three inches isn’t enough either. 5 inches is a scientific fact.

3.    I don’t know how to avoid a crick in my neck. I think I get a crick once a week. I’m like Lurch from The Addams Family. When I turn, it’s more of a full body turn than a swivel of the neck. My chiropractor quenches his weird (I think sexual) need for thunderous joint popping when I amble in. I’m like Bugs Bunny dressed as a woman and he’s the wolf in a zoot suit.  I mean, he calls me darling.

4.    I’ve mentioned that I’m super paranoid before… many times. Well, sometimes, not all the time, I have to tell myself that if a serial killer kills me in my sleep, it’s the way things are supposed to be. Mom, wife, don’t comment on this. I know I’m not going to die. Sometimes, that’s the only way to do it though. When I was a teenager, I had this reoccurring thought that Freddie Mercury was going to be the one to kill me in my sleep. I see those teeth… and… it’s over. Come on, wife and mom… laugh!

5.    Sometimes my feet cramp too.

No One is Reading This

I can’t write anything funny because I’m listening to the Republican National Convention. I would feel the same if I were listening to the Democrat version (so don’t jump on me if you’re a nut - also, stop reading my unattended blog). I’ve noticed a similarity between politicians and International House Hunters: both say things in an obviously, certain way. International House Hunters (when they are showing a prospective couple one of three houses): “This is your NEW full bath with granite tile.” RNC or DNC (? – is that what it’s called): “Your NEXT vice president: Prof. Wienerton.”

It’s like we already bought it. Is that supposed to convince me? Is it a Jedi mind trick? Maybe I should start doing that. “Wife, this is your new set of laundry to fold.”

Also, I’m hearing quite a bit of chanting. Maybe we should chant more as a society. I feel like it really gets the message across. “Ice Cream! Ice Cream! Ice Cream!” Maybe that would get the ball rolling: WE WANT MORE ICE CREAM. No more ineffective cream!

I just heard, “God bless, Neil Armstrong.” Don’t get me wrong; he was a great hero. But, is this pandering to the Nth degree? I need to start pandering.Me standing in front of the TV in a suit with my right hand raised as if talking to God and my eyes filled with a tender hopefulness: “God Bless my wife for her excellent Chinese food ordering skills. She is the true. American. Hero.”

I need to get into politics. I’ve got it figured out. I could definitely get more stuff.