On Monday, I was a victim of a great tragedy.
I woke up with a crick in my neck and soon discovered I had been sleeping on The Mister’s pillows instead of my own.
It was all very Princess and the Pea.
You see, on Sunday, in an unnatural turn of events, I awoke before the early bird, and as a result, my husband made the bed.
He swears he didn’t switch the pillows.
I believe he believes he didn’t switch the pillows.
There is no other explanation as to why our pillows were inverted, but he knows it was not his fucking fault and he’s not going to fucking apologize for something that was not his fucking fault.
If he does apologize it’s only in the screaming sarcastic way that implies I am an uptight, know-it-all bitch who never does anything wrong.
You know how it goes, “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”
If you’re a neurotic control freak who needs a lot of structure and consistency in your life then you know how crucial this aphorism actually is. You know
how I do the type. I’m not saying that my life is filled with rituals and procedures, because I’m not a madwoman, but I have some rituals and procedures because I have anxiety disorder and I believe I cannot trust the world to operate properly without my supervision and intervention.
So, on Monday, because of the pain in my neck, I also acquired a headache and a lovely panic loop, because as you well know, all headaches are brain tumors and all brain tumors result in imminent death, especially if you don’t worry about them. In fact, if you have anxiety disorder, not obsessing about your brain tumor will actually make it grow.
My social media was all about the pillow tragedy, and the injustice of my husband not apologizing to me. Dramatically relating my pain on the interwebz was great! I had a lot of fun!
It distracted me from tearful woe about how my husband had stopped loving me overnight, as well as preventing me from focusing on the panic loop.
pillows are very important to me.
isn’t there enough pain in the world without sleepin on the wrong fuckin pillow?
i may not pull through, y’all.
i’m havin some very princess & the pea moments.
marcellus wallace prolly has to wear that band-aid on his neck because mrs mia wallace switched the pillows on the bed.
i bet this new patch of eczema on my arm is from sleeping on the wrong pillow…
True asks, “How’s your pain? You feeling any better? I make you tea?”
i’m off to take a long, hot shower, to see if i can get over this lack of apology, i mean, pain in my neck, i mean, neck ache.
i have a headache, which i’m sure is because of poor pillowing. i may need to lie down. i definitely can’t sweep floors or roast a tenderloin in this condition.
Anxiety hangover is a real thing. Muscles ache, eyes twitch and blur — renders me dizzy, gives me a headache, makes me feel like I’m not really in my body…body all exhausted, senses all heightened…Which is why someone looking at me while I sleep can startle me.
i was resting properly on MY pillows when my husband came in and scared the bejesus outta me with his eyes, so i’m up now, dishes done, dinner’s on…
I eventually recovered, after The Mister gave me a good rub and I got a full night’s sleep on the right pillows. But it was rough goin there for awhile, because I didn’t really wanna start another blog about my life as a single mommy with a brain tumor and all that.
Feel free to vent to me about your neuroses, your spouse’s inability to apologize, your panic loops, how important your pillows are, or how much you love Pulp Fiction.
Please avoid stating the obvious, like how this isn’t a Nice Lady Blog. And don’t fuck with my pillows.