Beds

A couple of weeks ago James and I started throwing around the idea of getting a bigger bed. We currently have a queen and it does just fine for the most part. Generally we have no sleeping issues, but every once in a while one of use will have a restless night and our continual movement will keep the other person awake and then no one is happy.

After several nights of no issues and great sleep we had all but forgotten about the bigger bed discussion. Then, three nights ago right before nodding off James whispered a horrific curse, "We sure haven't had any issues sleeping lately" True, we hadn't...but now we were jinxed. I knocked on wood (my night stand)which not only scared James to death (he thought it was someone at our window), but also did nothing to ease our inevitable sleeping issues.

That same night James would NOT STOP MOVING. He was constantly flipping over, kicking his legs, waving his arms around wildly, chomping his teeth LOUDLY. It was the most annoying night in the history of marriage. Our marriage anyway. James, however, slept through his craziness and didn't believe me when I told him what he had been doing.

After that night the bed conversation came up again. I thought, nah, we don't need to invest in a bigger bed. We're just fine! It was one fluke night! The next night we drifted off to sleep...and a few short hours later I was woken up by an elbow smacking me on the nose. Yes, I was bowed by my husband. Luckily it didn't hurt very much but the movement woke James up in time to realize what he had done and then he KNEW I hadn't been making it all up. I faked injury for a few seconds just to make sure it sank in, then I told him it didn't really hurt but to be more careful with his flailing in the future.

The next day when I got home after work James informed me that he had been pricing bigger beds again. I guess my fake injury really got to him. A warning of future broken noses and black eyes perhaps? Still no purchases made, but the thought was presenting itself much more strongly than in the past.

Last night I woke up due to stabbing pain in my eyebrow. Apparently I had stabbed myself with my fingernail. I checked the mirror to find I had actually injured myself and was bleeding. Yes, my own flailing arms resulted in a significantly noticeable gash in my brow. Today I've cleaned it up and put make up on it, but it still looks like a black blob in the middle of my eyebrow. Awesome.

I'm starting to think that a bigger bed might not be adequate for our issues. Perhaps restraints would be a better investment.