Tom went upstairs this afternoon to read his book. I smiled when he announced this. My grandmother made it a habit to go upstairs and read the paper every afternoon. She would never admit to enjoying a nice midday nap. A good, industrious woman would not succumb to sleep in the middle of the day. (My grandmother was a wise woman, but we part company when it comes to that particular sentiment.) She saw nothing wrong, however, with propping oneself comfortably on one's pillows while reading one's daily newspaper. If that level of comfort sometimes led one to snore, well, so be it.
Tom is usually more straightforward. He is not quite as motivated by the thought of being an industrious man. He has been known, on the weekends, to take a good honest nap before he's even gotten out of his pajamas. I will not even feign superiority on this point, as I have been known to do the same. I'm an early riser. Sometimes I take my first nap before anyone else has even gotten up - leading them to the erroneous conclusion that I've slept in. I never sleep in. But I am not averse to a nice morning nap.
Today, when Tom went upstairs to read, I gave him a few moments then joined him. I didn't bother to bring my book. Those of you who spend a lot of time watching happy marriage porn and are expecting this story to take a turn for the bow-chicka-bow-wow are about to be sorely disappointed. I apologize in advance.
I found him as I expected to, sound asleep with his book on my pillow and his glasses on top of it. Bless his heart, it looked like he might have given reading an honest effort before ditching it in favor of sweet, sweet daytime sleep. I put the book and the glasses on the nightstand, kicked off my shoes, and slid in next to him. His arm found its way around my waist instinctively, without disturbing his slumber.
We have a small bed. A full sized bed. The sort of bed most people nowadays buy for their children. Initially, we didn't opt for anything larger because I had inherited a lovely antique bedroom set from my grandmother - the same bed she'd lie on to read the newspaper every afternoon. It would only accommodate a full sized mattress. When the time came to buy a new mattress, I broached the subject of getting a larger one. Sure, it wouldn't fit perfectly, but who would know? It's not like we have a daily parade through our bedroom or anything. But Tom said no. At first, I thought he was just cheaping out - and I was preparing to react in the traditional passive aggressive manner of a woman who has been cheaped out upon. But before I'd even managed to work up a good, "I suppose I don't deserve a bigger bed", he said, "I don't want a bigger bed. I like having you right next to me. Sometimes when we sleep in hotels or other people's guest rooms - in a king sized bed - I can't even find you. I don't like that. I sleep best when you're right next to me."
So we spent the next few years cuddled up like two cliched spoons in a drawer. Because what woman could resist a position like that? A bigger bed would put you farther away from me. I want you closer. Sweet. You people in larger beds must not be nearly as adored as I am. I envy thee not. (Apparently the more self-righteous I become, the more likely I become to use phrases like: I envy thee not.)
This was swell, until the hot flashes came along. Suddenly that proximity to another warm-blooded being in the middle of the night became unbearable. We would still fall asleep the way we always had, but a couple hours later I'd end up on the floor or the sofa or - basically anywhere where I could escape the feeling of heat emanating off of me, hitting him, and bouncing back at me in an amplified state.
What a drag it is.
So we're taking the plunge and shopping for a king-sized bed. We figure there's plenty of room in the middle for us to fall asleep in the manner to which we've become accustomed, then to roll away as the night progresses and actually get a decent nights sleep without having to leave the bed.
You don't suppose that once we start sleeping well at night, we'll give up our afternoon naps, do you? I hope not. They are delicious.