The Great Pillow War

I'm very picky about my pillow. Ok, so that's not so surprising, most people are. I mean without a decent pillow, a good night's sleep is impossible.

With a great pillow, your head is cradled as you drift off into dreamland.

When you have a bad pillow, you get a stiff neck, maybe a shoulder cramp and you just can't get comfortable or sleep.

I know this routine well. Too well, actually...because for too long now, I've had a terrible pillow.

And it's caused quite a ruckus in my home, because you see, my husband has had a very, very good pillow. I dare to call it a great pillow.

And I wanted it.

Cue the drama.


Ok, a little background here before you ask me why I didn't just go out and buy myself a new one. You see, I have bad lungs. Always have.

They're affected by the common cold, the presence of pets, strong scents and just about every kind of airborne allergy you can name. And putting my head down on a seemingly innocent pillow - even with a state of the art protector - can be a dangerous action.

Some of them smell like perfume from the store they're from. Some of them have been dragged on dirty store floors, some of them have been purchased and returned and some of them say they are hypoallergenic, but they lie.


And some of them are just really uncomfortable. But really that's the least of my worries.

As you can imagine, going to a hotel is a giant nightmare when it comes to the pillows. I always ask for feather free. Half the time they comply.

But even then I have to think. Was this pillow used in the dog friendly room before my stay? Does it reek like cleaning fluid or the hotel air freshener. Or worse...weed. Trust me, it's all happened.

It's alright, I'm adaptable and I've learned to be prepared. Rather than bring my own precious pillow with me to these places, I bring a giant sweatshirt and sleep on that, on top of the pillow. Not super for a fabulous night's sleep, but better than the alternative.


At home, however, life is easier. I've always had a reliable pillow. It didn't smell like anything, it had been broken in and never made me wheeze or sneeze. Perfect.

Until one day it wasn't.

It wasn't the pillow's fault. It was the interloper who caused the issue. My husband bought a new pillow. And I had fallen in love.

Oh sure, I gave him time to break it in. I slept next to it for a few months and then one evening when I felt relatively sure that it was safe, I moved in and tried it.

It was a bad move. Instantly I knew that I needed to have that pillow.



Hmph.

Well that was no good. I needed a new plan. So I sweet talked, I cajoled, I bargained and I begged. But every single one of my tactics fell flat.

I had almost given up, too. However when my own beloved pillow came out of the dryer all lumpy and misshapen, it was basically unusable. Now I truly needed a new one.


There was no other choice, so we went to war.

It was {mostly} all in good fun, and there was a lot of laughter throughout, but it was a serious battle. The prize was too big for folly.

Of course, I, being the night owl, had the immediate upper hand and I used it to my advantage, unapologetically. I'd come to bed after my husband was sound asleep and I would lie in wait.

If he turned on his stomach and his head fell off the pillow, I would grab it for a few precious hours until he realized and snatched it back.

There were also times when I curled up so close, that I just casually shared the pillow. He loved that. Especially on those really hot and humid nights when even the air conditioner wasn't keeping up.



Other times, I'd swap my lumpy mess with his, when he got up for water. He was so tired and half asleep when he returned he wouldn't even notice.

He'd ask what's so funny in a sleepy drawl, as I tried to conceal my laughter...seriously, I'm a terrible spy...but he'd just fall asleep waiting for my answer. Unknowing.

By the light of day, though, there was no mistaking his comfy, soft, plush pillow for mine.



He wasn't wrong and his comparison made me laugh for days. It really was just like that. So off I went, giggling, to Target.

It was the safest place I could think of...no perfume smells, pillows wrapped in plastic and clearly tagged with their contents. So I bought one.

And didn't use it.

It sat in that plastic, in my bedroom, staring at me. But I just couldn't.



He understood. It's hard to explain to those that don't, but the clearest way is simply to say, if you've ever not been able to breathe for any reason or any amount of time, you never, ever want it to happen again.

And when live on the edge of that feeling on a near daily basis, you'll do anything you can to avoid it. Furthermore, IF you've had a specific situation that has induced that feeling, you certainly want to avoid that trigger. Forever. No matter how irrational it may seem.

So. There we were. Back on the brink of war, when something miraculous happened. I got sick.


Who in their right mind is going to argue with a sick person? She's stuffy, she's sore, she's cranky and she really can't breathe. So you give her your pillow. And you take the lumpy diaper until she's well.

And then when she gets well...or well enough to wash the sheets and reset the bed, you take the new pillow and give her your old one. For good.

Dressed in its new white case, it was the equivalent of his surrender flag.

The war was over and I was victorious, thanks to an end of summer cold.

Now, I'll rest on my prize and sleep easy.

Although, it'll probably just be until he breaks in the new one and I decide I need that one.


I mean, treaties were meant to be broken.

And frankly our war-games were way more fun than a bedtime story.

I kind of miss them already.

I'll keep you posted.

Do you have a favorite pillow?