Pillow Talks

Each time I return from an overnight trip, I find my husband has "accidentally" purloined my two pillows. These pillows are nothing truly special, but they are broken-in and just the right measure of fluffy and squishy for me.

"If the pillows were numbered #1 - #4, you always get #s 1 and 2 and I'm stuck with 3 and 4 -- I think I should at least get custody of #2." my husband whines.

My eyes widen and my hands fly to my hips. "Excuse me," I say. "Shall we pay a little visit to the graveyard of special pillows first?"

My husband's gaze flickers and finds the floor. He knows what's coming.

In the last three years, we have invested more than $500 in special pillows for my husband. There was "the wedge," the hypo-allergenic down/foam mixture, the neck roll, the buck wheat crescent, and the Tempurpedic head support. Not only have we tried out every version of pillow available at Macy's, we've called 1-800#s, visited the back store and ordered online. Where are these special pillows today? Not on our bed. I have visions that they will someday unite and hold a pillow Special Olympics just to show us they are just as good as their generically-abled pillow cousins.

I think the dog sleeps on the $125 Tempurpedic pillow and he's not even picky. He would launch himself onto a Bounty paper towel that fell on the floor if it promised one iota of softness.

Now I could go out and buy exact copies of my present pillows -- either for me or my husband, but I so know what would happen. In the same way that dinner always looks better on someone else's plate, the pillows under my head will hold an irresistible lure.

I am just going to have to get me a pillow vault for when I go out of town and leave a paper towel on my side of the bed.