Admitting that I have a problem is the first step towards recovery right? And I already have my higher power… So… what? I’m already at step three? Talk about rapid progress!
If you don’t like April Fool’s Day, you won’t like living in my house. I can’t shake the constant nagging desire to tormentingly tease (in a sweet and loving way of course) those whom are dearest to me.
My darling husband, for years has put up with a wife who secretly removes his pillow just moments before he falls into bed. Why would a loving soul do this to her wonderful hunk of a husband? I don’t know, except that it’s really funny to notice that no matter how many nights in a row this is done, he never suspects it.
I’m not quite sure just when this pillow swiping joke began becoming a regularly scheduled tool in my bag of tricks aimed soley at keeping my mate guessing and wondering if he was married to respectable pastor’s wife material (whatever that is) or a court jester. I think one of the reasons that he likes me so much is because I am both. Sometimes at the same exact time.
Quickly would I hurry through my nightly ablutions. Spritely would I shed my clothes and jump into my pajamas. Giddily would I turn off the light and jump into bed, snuggling down far into the covers. Convincingly would I make as if I were already asleep (As if. Everyone knows only men can fall asleep that quickly!) or very close anyways. Stealthily would I lay as if I were doing nothing but counting cottony invisible sheep. Secretly would my hand lay quietly beneath his pillow, clutching tightly to its edge. Innocently and unknowingly would he enter the darkened room, having finished his nightly lavings. Surreptitiously would the pillow be removed to the other side of the bed.
This movement had to be done in one fell, almost pure infinitesimally untraceable, movement if it was to be acheived without being noticed.
My stomach would do gymnastics as his head hit the place where the pillow should have been. While, though audibly laughless, I guffawed in my soul just waiting for his almost timeable response, “Hey!!! You did it again! YOU! You piece of work, you! You little flirt!”
My stifled giggles would erupt from the bowels of my being as he reached over to grab the pillow, and stopping along the way, he would tickle me instead and continue with his good-natured name-calling.
He’s such a good hearted soul. Never would he think of removing my pillow. To this day, my pillow has remained firmly planted where it ought to remain and is faithfully, night after night, there when my head descends in a bedward direction. I fall blissfully onto it and declare my most loving affections towards this wonderful bed of mine. I do so love my bed. It is so inviting and soft and warm. Especially if I have to get up in the morning to take the dog out and then come and get back in it. There is nothing nicer than a pre-warmed bed. But I digress.
Never, in all of our married life has my husband teasingly removed my pillow. He tends to not have a creative thought (and certainly not a shifty thought) left in his head once he knows he is going to bed. He is pretty much asleep while he is brushing his teeth. Getting in the prostrate position is merely a formality. I don’t know how he puts up with my antics. Somehow, for some arcane reason, my compunctious emotions stop right about there because though I haven’t done it lately, every once in a while I still get the notion to remove his pillow.
And he is always surprised. Always.
Living like this makes for a very boring April Fool’s Day when it does roll around.