Pillow Talk


In case I haven't mentioned before, Nick is a minimalist with a capital PSYCHO. Everything I've bought since we've been married I've had to beg or barter for and I find myself constantly explaining things like why we have to buy baby wipes instead of using the wash cloths we already have, and that both the toothbrush and toothpaste are necessary items in our medicine cabinet. No, you just can't use one or the other.

God help my girls if I ever die - they will wear nothing but loin cloths and slumber on a bed of twigs.

So, when I woke up a couple of weeks ago feeling like a viking had left his battle axe lodged in my spine, I knew I was going to have to buy a body pillow and I knew it wasn't going to go well.

Nick: What's that?
Me: It's a body pillow. I'm 25 weeks pregnant and my belly is huge and I need it so I bought it so get over it.
Nick: But we have like 50 pillows on the bed already.
Me: I tried. They're not long enough.
Nick: Then use me.
Me: You're too bony.
Nick: (Exasperated) UUUUUUUUgggggghhhhhh. I'm going to use the toothpaste.

So you can imagine my surprise when I came back from my first of 37 trips to the bathroom that night to find him fast asleep and spooning with the pillow.

Me: (Whispering) Hey, Nick, can you give me my pillow?
Nick: No.
Me: I'm not in the mood for this. Give... me... back... my God damned pillow.
Nick: Don't talk like that in front of Clarise.
Me: You named it?
Nick: Her. I named her. Now get your own pillow.

And with that he rolled over with the pillow and the covers, leaving me, our unborn child and the battle axe in my spine lying there, cold and in pain.

And all I can wonder is if there's a judge in the world that would not rule in my favor.