Friday, April 25, 2008

Friday Favorites: Wrinkles

After only a week of marriage, Chris realized (to his dread) several of my quirky personal characteristics, which were previously hidden behind a veil of twitterpation. Like my need for black shoes (we’ve discussed this before). Or my propensity toward tears on uncooperative hair days. Or my socks-and-men’s-tee lounging habits.

Or how hot I look when I’m only wearing a smile!

But he was most blindsided by my bed-making rules. For no explainable reason, I have very particular feelings about the tucking of sheets, folding of blankets, placement of pillows, smoothing of covers, length of dustruffles----Alright, I’ll stop there.

My feelings on the subject are so particular, that when a bed-making assistant haphazardly slings the duvet or tosses the decorative pillows, I scream, cry, throw something, panic, breath into a paper bag, run around the room flailing my arms, threaten, wail, spit----Again, stopping myself.

Chris calls me the Bed Nazi.

(I call him a meanie potato husband).

Ironically I don’t make my bed everyday. Sometimes an entire week will pass before I smooth the covers.

But each night, I slip beneath the sheets and concurrently slip into meltdown mode.

Why is this bed not made?! I CAN’T SLEEP ON WRINKLED SHEETS. But I’m too tired to fix it. WHY?! Oh, I’m so tired. WRINKLED SHEETS! I'm MISERABLE!

Six years of wrinkled-sheet-complaining later, Chris learned to endure my mania. Although I have no recollection of the following conversation, Chris swears this happened last week:

Becky: [groggy after falling asleep on the couch and being ushered to bed by Chris] Ohhh, honey! [sniffle, moan, voice jumps three octaves] The SHEETS ARE WRINKLED.
Chris: I know, but try to go to sleep.
Becky: [whiney] BUT THE SHEETS!
Chris: Are you really crying? [chuckles to himself]
Becky: Don’t laugh at me! [sniffle] The sheets are wrapped around my legs. I can’t sleep like this.
Chris: Are you serious? Fine, move your leg. I’ll fix the stupid sheets.
Clearly, smooth sheets are my favorite.

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Harley said...

meanie potato husband? Seriously?

Merianne said...

Chris spoils you rotten. You really lucked out with a patient husband.:)

kristine said...

Being that I have too much free time on my hands at work, I stumbled upon your blog. It turns out I am also a Wickstrom (although born into, not married into), and your wrinkled sheet post rang FAR too true. I spent the last night of my honeymoon kicking at the hotel room sheets because they were wrinkly and refused to lay flat so I could fall asleep. My husband stuck around, even after that glimpse of craziness!