But not the way you think, you filthy, godless pervert. Christ, is that all you people think about? You disgust me.
No, what I mean is that I'm a high-maintenance sleeper. While some of you could sleep easily and peacefully while strapped to the blade of a windmill, or being dragged behind a pickup truck, I require an elaborate list of specific items and ideal room conditions to get me through the night.
Here's the short list of idiosyncrasies that would make a normal person cringe at the thought of sleeping in the same bed with me:
1. I need a full wardrobe change by my bedside. I go to bed in long-sleeves and long jammie pants, but keep shorts and at the ready. This is because I go to bed chilly, but wake up later a little warm, and change into the t-shirt. Still later, I may wake up and change into the shorts, or just lose the pants. But I could never go so far as to sleep in a tank top (or less) because I'd wake up cold in about 20 minutes. Don't ask me why there's a world of difference between a tank top and a t-shirt, but those few extra inches of fabric make all the difference between getting a warm, comfortable night's sleep, or laying wide awake in a fetal position cursing God and listening to my teeth chatter.
2. I usually get up to change the thermostat in the night. I leave it set at 76 degrees all day and most of the night, but when I wake up hot in the middle of the night, I sometimes get up to change it to 75. Later, I'll probably wake up chilly and change it back to 76. I hear you out there thinking, "Um...hey Dumbass. One degree probably makes no difference at all. Why not just turn the overhead fan on instead?" I can't do that because I can't sleep with air blowing directly on me. And stop calling me Dumbass. I refuse to be insulted on my own blog.
3. I can't sleep with any extraneous noise in the room. No radio, no TV, etc. Also, no snoring, which makes my husband a poor candidate for a sleep partner. But if I cram earplugs in my ears and turn on a small bedside fan, I may be able to make it a couple hours before having to wake him up with a gentle karate chop to the skull and asking him to turn over. Then I may be able to make it another hour before the racket resumes, causing me to get up and move to the floor. That little bit of added distance between my ears and his honking make it possible for me to sleep fairly well from that point on. At least, until I wake up for another wardrobe change.
4. I need just the right combination and arrangement of pillows. One medium-fluffy under my head, one unfluffy to put between my knees (when I'm sleeping on my side), or under my knees (when I'm on my back), and one fat-fluffy to put next to me. Plus I need Roe, the teddy bear I've slept with since I was in junior high, to throw an arm over. Many nights I get all snuggled down in bed, nice and comfy, only to realize I'm missing one of these crucial pillows or the aforementioned teddy bear, and I have to get back up and track down the missing component. True, all these accoutrements leave almost no room for my husband to squeeze into the bed, but luckily for me he's only of medium build, and can manage to fit.
5. I need just the right blanket. Usually that means a down comforter, but in the absence of that, I can settle for two or three blankets--just enough to crush a normal person under the sheer weight of them.
6. I need chapstick handy all night. I apply it before I go to bed, but it's likely I will need a reapplication in the night. Otherwise I may be distracted from sleep by the thought of my lips cracking like a baseball glove left out in the sun.
7. I am guaranteed to make at least two, possibly more, bathroom trips. I have a bladder the approximate size of one of those little rubber coin purses your grandpa carries in his pocket. And if I happen to have a couple of glasses of wine on a Saturday night before going to bed, I might as well just haul my pillows, wardrobe change, teddy bear and chapstick into the bathroom and sleep in there.
8. I like to sleep in pitch darkness, which means that even the smallest bit of light is unacceptable. Not only is a nightlight bothersome, but get this: We have a security system on our house which has a control panel in our bedroom. A tiny green dot of light signals to us that the house is "safe," whereas a green blinking dot means that a door or window has been opened. Either way, blinking or not, the green light is there, and though it's only about the size of the head of a nail, it bugs me. I cover it with a small square of black electrical tape so that I can't see it. True, that means we can't tell if the house is "safe" or if a door or window has been opened by a crazed prison escapee who is perhaps even now in the process of rummaging around in our kitchen for just the right knife for cutting my jugular, but let's remember what's important here: A good night's sleep.
In summary, I'm a huge pain in the ass to sleep with. Luckily for me, my husband has no idea. He is so loaded down with great qualities that they're actually coming out of his ears--I've seen it--and among them is the fact that he sleeps like a corpse. He doesn't care if it's 100 degrees or 20 degrees in the room, if the bed is piled precariously high with stuffed animals, pillows and gardening tools, if I get up 75 times or zero times in the night, or if there's a thin cotton sheet or 14 bison pelts covering him. He can sleep fully clothed or dressed only in a pair of Victoria's Secret angel wings (don't judge him), he can sleep in an utterly quiet room or in a bottle cap factory. It's yet another example of the thousands of ways that I'm basically unfit for a relationship, yet my husband is so agreeable and so easy to live with that he doesn't notice. He actually thinks I'm perfect--which, as you and I both know, is preposterous.
But don't tell him any different. I have a good thing going here, and I don't need you ruining it.