Sometimes, I wake up at night, clutching the sheet as though it were my only scrap of clothing as I was on the stage at Carnegie Hall. Upon further examination, I find that I have all of the sheet, leaving Chef with none of it. But don’t feel too sorry for him in those instances; I may have all the sheet, but he’s got all the other covers.
Other times, I wake to find that I’m the one who has stolen all the covers, and my poor hubby is curled up on his side of the bed, shivering. I shift the blankets back over onto him, only to wake up a couple of hours later to find I’ve stolen them back again.
Good thing we love each other anyway.