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I admit it. When we first started dating, sometimes we would change up which side of the bed we sleep on. Mr. Lily on the right, Miss Lily on the left. Miss Lily on the right, Mr. Lily on the left. But it has been many, many (many!) moons since we have swapped bed sides. I sleep on the left and I love the left. It’s my side. I know just how many paces I need to stumble to snooze in the morning, and have even carved out a nice little imprint of myself on that side of the bed. So when Mr. Lily laid down on my side of the bed last night and refused to move, I was aggravated to say the least.
Me: Noooooooooooooo. Gimme my side back!
Mr. L: Why? You can deal for one night, I want your side tonight.
Me: (as I try, unsuccessfully, to push Mr. Lily over) You’re going to ruin my sleep.
Mr. L: You’e loco.
Me: (as I try to squeeze my body flat underneath him and heave him over). Get over!
Mr. L: No (as he throws me to his side and uses his arms as a straight jacket to keep me there).
I swear I circled the bed 15 times trying to get him to move! I tried poking, proding, yelling, a fake tear or two. Finally, he agreed to move if I promised to let him have my side on Saturday night (which seemed better than ruining my weekday routine… and maybe he won’t remember? Doubtful!). Mr. Lily said he wants my side once a month. Um. Nope. My sleep patterns are honed to perfection on the left — why mess with that?
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