Midnight Madness

I should probably preface this by explaining that my polar bear of a husband likes to sleep cold.  Really cold.  He keeps the air in our bedroom kind of frigid at night time.  And then he steals the covers in the middle of the night, leaving me a frozen Popsicle, shivering and uncovered on my side of the bed.  And he would never do this on purpose, it happens inadvertently, I know.  But he still kind of thinks it's funny.  Which sometimes leaves me incensed.

So last night, I'm awakened by the draft of a chilling breeze over my bare knee and I notice that Keith has pulled almost all of the covers onto his side of the bed.  I say almost all, because at least a quarter of my body was still sort of touching some of the covers.  Big sigh, and I kind of poke him in the ribs.  "Hey, you're stealing the covers and I'm cold."

Without opening his eyes, without raising his head, without a word, Keith laughs to himself, and falls back asleep.  So I yank enough covers back to at least mostly cover my frostbitten left half and I fall back asleep.  Right into a very intense dream, in which someone is forcing me (not a younger me but the current, 29 year old me) to go through junior high all over again.  Apparently I did it "wrong" the first time and I'm supposed to go back and do it all over "right" (yes, the inside of my head is a very weird, weird place to me be).  So 29 year old dream me is stuffed into a purple and white cheer-leading outfit, hiding under the bleachers crying because I don't want to be a cheerleader and I don't want to have blond hair and I especially don't want to relive the nightmarish hell on earth that was my junior high experience.  And dream me is mad that somebody did this to me.

And then I wake up.  Because I'm shivering and the covers are nowhere!  I can't even reach the covers to try to yank some of them back.  And I snap.  I huff over onto my side and bark at my husband.  "Seriously?!  You've stolen ALL of the covers!  Again!"  And I hear, "Hee-hee," from the other side of the bed.  So I sit up.  "No!  Seriously!  I want to you look at this!"  Disclaimer:  I was still sort of in sleep-fog too.  I would never be this mean to my husband if I were fully conscious of it.  


At which point Keith actually does sit up and look at my goose-bump covered, blanket bereft body.  And then he very sweetly covers me all back up.  And the covers stayed in place until the alarm went off this morning, at which point it was time to get up and get out of bed and face another day, armed with a delicious breakfast that my husband made.  And I've got to say, cover-stealer or not, his coffee, egg and turkey bacon making skills more than make up for it.