Carrie Leigh (carrie_leigh) wrote,
Carrie Leigh
carrie_leigh

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The Great Pillow War of 2007

As much as I would like to detail the vagaries of the Urgent Care Center on a Saturday morning, where the only redeeming point in the whole escapade was a breathtakingly smouldering hot male nurse that literally made my breath catch in my throat and my replies no more than inaudible babbling, I 'll control my ranting urge and get on with an explanation of the title of this post.  But before I get to that, Let me just squee that I watched the first three episodes of both Dr. Who & Robin Hood,  and every time Jonas Armstrong winks, I melt a little inside.  He's just all kinds of cute (He does, however, need a little feeding up.  *raises hand*  Can I volunteer for the job?)!   I enjoy the fact that Rose and Marion are both women with curves and not the stick versions of leading ladies that Hollywood turns out.  The sheriff is easy to hate, Much is good comic releif, and Little John is animalistic and bear-like without being a hulking presence.  And I really can't help but drool over Sir Guy, mullet notwithstanding, I mean, how hot is he?  Figures I'd like the bad guy.  Ooh.  Guy.  Ironic.

I should start, I guess, with a slice of history.  My mother (who I love and adore) has a bit of "The Princess and the Pea" syndrome as one of her endearing quirks.  One of the peculiarities of this finickiness is that she takes her feather pillow everywhere with her.  It even gets its own suitcase.  In any case, it helps her to sleep, and who can begrudge that?  About three months ago, she and her husband visited us at our cabin, and she called me a couple of hours after they left to tell me in a very disappointed voice that she had left her beloved pillow in the spare bedroom.  (This, coupled with chiggers in unfortunate places, lead me to believe that I'll be lucky to ever have her visit again.)

I went to retrieve it, to take it home with us to mail it back to her; the pain in her voice reminding me to not forget it before we left.  I picked it up, and was intrigued.  Previously to this, I had eschewed feather pillows, proclaiming them to be "icky" and faithfully gone out every year to buy new puffy polyester pillows for hubby and I.  Hubs had never slept on a feather pillow either, but we both took a shine to Mom's beloved feather pillow.  The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World.

The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World has now become the number one coveted item in our house.  We are having a sort of silent war over it.  It's a subtle battle of wills; we don't ever voice our opinion about The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World.  However, when he gets up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, somehow the crappy pillow made of man-made fibers I have is sneakily switched with The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World that he is lying on.  One night, I smiled triumphantly as I came to bed, seeing the tell-tale red pillowcase that The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World now sports, only to find out that when I actually lay my head on the atrocity, that Hubs had switched the cases, the crafty beggar!  Several more sly tricks were played, including hiding The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World under the bed and shoving The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World in a bedside table drawer. A good part of my evening has been devoted to scheming a way to keep The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World for myself, one of which involved squeezing it down to as flat as it would go and putting it between the mattress and box springs...  

This may seem silly to you, but The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World is beyond amazing.  In fact, Hubs mentioned that we should get rid of all of our polyester atrocities parading themselves as pillows and buy dozens of brothers and sisters for The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World.  However, siblings for The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World cost a hefty $99.50 each.  (That, Mother dear, is why you haven't received him in the mail.) And Nolan would seriously have kittens if I were to spend that kind of cash on pillows.  Even Great ones.

Now I'm torn between wanting Mom to visit, yet knowing that when she does, it will indeed be a dark day.   She will take The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World back to Arlington with her, snug in its own little suitcase, never to be slumbered on by me (or Hubs) again.

Together however, Hubs and I may be able to come up with a way to switch The Greatest Pillow In The Whole World for one of our less desirable ones before she leaves.  Ah!  The moral dilemma!  Stealing from your own mother, or a good night's sleep.  What to do, what to do?
Tags: dr. who, movie review, robin hood, silliness
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