Wednesday, April 05, 2006
King James in the Bedroom!
Couples often bicker about the position of the driver’s seat, house temperature, grass length, and whose relatives to visit at Christmas. Many never resolve these minor conflicts, but they do resolve to stay together.
My husband and I have our share of quirky issues, too. Recently, I bought a massive, majestic-looking bedspread for our new sleigh bed. Each night when I pulled back the ivory brocade, its opulence made me feel like a baroness instead of a housewife. When I bought it, “form follows function” meant nothing to me; beauty was everything! Soon, I discovered that this bedding cocooned me to sleep sweeter than anything in my entire life. I was in love. My husband wasn’t.
During the night, I would wake to see him sit up, shove, kick, or punch it off and mutter unintelligible threats. He would work up a sweat assaulting this bedspread, fighting it like it was a Viking invader. Every morning he was exhausted from defending the castle, and every night we went around about whether or not to use it.
Intense “discussions” ensued. One morning he ranted, “How can you stand this heavy thing? It’s oppressive and too ornate and old-fashioned! It’s the King James of bedspreads!” He was crazed; I had to do something.
Fast forward to the end of an exhilarating shopping day, when I brought home a gorgeous replacement at clearance price!I unveiled our new ivory satin quilt, anticipating his approval. It was similar to King James but about ten pounds lighter and a full two inches thinner, with an understated sumptuousness.
A few hours into that night, I woke shivering, sat up and grabbed for any cover at all. He woke to this frenzy and realized the bedspread was on the floor. He pulled it up and lovingly placed it over me. Within a few minutes it slithered off my side onto the floor. I pulled it back up, but the wily scoundrel slid down the other side! My husband put it back on us. This frustrating routine lasted the entire night.
Finally, my husband jerked the bedspread off the floor, pounded it onto us, and said, “What’s wrong with this thing? It’s shifty and cunning! Why won’t it stay put? It’s downright sneaky! It’s—it’s the Slick Willy of bedspreads!”
October arrived, and even my husband needed more insulation than our thin cotton blankets. Crestfallen, he turned to the closet where the behemoth lay. At his suggestion, we actually put the grand old monarch back on its throne. Settling under its immense tonnage, my husband sighed and said, “King James rules.” Ahh. My knight in shining pajamas.