I have learned something new, and very important.

If you can’t sleep with whom you want, it’s almost as nice to sleep how you want.

I’m not sure if that sounds wierd– let me explain.  My ex and I had a really nice bed.  After a few years of sleeping on a double futon (first with the mattress on the floor, then on a futon frame, then on a cheapass Ikea frame), we splurged on one of those California-King pillow-top magical beds where you just melt right into it at night and kindof slide off in the morning.  Despite that, I suppose it doesn’t need to be said again that I didn’t enjoy sleeping with him, but I’ll say it again.  I didn’t enjoy sleeping with him.  Not in the literal nor in the euphemistic sense; and of course since going to bed also means “going to bed”, it was getting harder and harder for me to get a good night’s sleep since I was just laying there waiting for him to make a move.  But that’s not exactly what this post is about.  Let’s move on.

When I left my husband, I left the bed behind, perhaps obviously.  The sofa I slept on, and the bed that I eventually slept on more permanently, were so. comfy.  And I’m sure a lot of that was due to finally feeling safe.  Now, living with grandma, I’ve got a double bed, with nice sheets, a blanket, a comforter, and a quilt (made by my great-great-whoever).  At some point in the past few weeks, I remembered the covers I had with my husband: just a comforter or blanket (that we did not share, since I am a highly skilled and supremely evil blanket stealer in my sleep).  And you know, I really hated that.  I wanted the sheet.  You can wash a sheet, you can’t wash a Cal-King comforter without a trip to the laundromat, which we only did once or twice in the entire marriage.  Ten years.  Okay, we probably only had the comforter for five years.  But Jesus Christ on a bike, that thing was never washed!  Gross!  At least put a sheet under it, right?  The ex didn’t want sheets.  Anyways, I think I’m ranting… I guess you get the point.

This whole thing is just another example of finally having relief from all the little things that bothered me over the years.  It’s not that important in the scheme of things to have Proper Bedclothes (as I define it), but fuck me if I’m not thankful and relieved to have it now.  Because when you’re happy and being treated well, you don’t mind little things.  So the clothes are on the floor next to the hamper– so what!  But when you’re unhappy and being treated poorly, and when you’re trying to convince yourself that everything’s really okay… those little things are all cuts and bruises.

Anyways.  Hooray for clean sheets.


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