Today’s prompt is Pillows
What was I thinking? I don’t know – it was two weeks ago.
I almost bought a new pillow at IKEA yesterday.
(Why do I always want to write IKEA in all caps? I thought it was because it’s in all caps on the sign, but lots of stores have all caps signs. I don’t type SUPERSTORE or SAFEWAY or CHAPTERS. Just IKEA. Deep down inside I think IKEA might stand for something, I guess. Like, I Know Everything is Awesome. Or, I Kan Eat Alotofmeatballs.)
Anyway, the pillow section at IKEA is incredible. I am writing this down in case someday I do want a new pillow and am at a total loss for where to go. They have pillows for side sleepers, back sleepers and front sleepers. This particular pillow had its own removable cover, to go between the pillowcase and the pillow. It was for side and back sleepers and it – let me see if I’m remembering this right – “adjusts its temperature and softness to your HEAD.” (emphasis mine)(probably) All of this for only $20! I nearly bought it, like I said, and then I remembered that I don’t actually use a pillow.
Sometimes I do. If I have a cold and can’t lie flat for fear of drowning in my own snot. But if I use a pillow too much I get headaches.
“But this pillow adjusts to your head!” said my good little consumer brain.
“But your MATTRESS does that just fine, without the $20 expense!” said my smart shopper brain.
I did not buy the pillow.
The other day, Trombone was sitting on a pile of couch cushions. The pile of cushions was stacked on the actual couch. He was about two feet above the edge of the couch and he toppled backwards and landed on his head on the wood floor. After he stopped crying he said, “I won’t sit up there again! That was not a safe thing to do!” and I refrained from reminding him that I in fact knew that and had told him so.
Two hours later, he almost did it again.
And no, it wasn’t a concussion.
The sheer bloody-mindedness of my children amazes me. I want to siphon it from them and inject it into me, so they could spend their days slouching about and wishing ‘the good TV’ would come back and I would be the one leaping from the couch in my underwear.
Then again, they got 50% of their bloody-mindedness from me in the first place, so maybe I just need to do some couch leaping and get back in the swing of things.
I was sure to take my own pillow with me to the hospital when I gave birth the first time. The second time, it was possibly the farthest thing from my mind.
I brought a story to writers’ group last night. I had written it in a hurry over the past few days; I wanted something to bring as I haven’t been to group in so long. Elements of the story were accepted but it would seem I left out the emotion. While another person in the group was telling me how much emotion she thought should be in the scenes in question, I was thinking,
“I was alluding to that,”
“How in depth do you need to go?”
“There is no way I’m revising this anyway,” and
“Not everyone behaves in that way.”
How much of that is true? The emotion is the meat of the story. I set up these traumatic, contentious plotlines and then tiptoe softly around them. Smothering them with pillows.
Synthetic, definitely. Or else the little quills poke out and jab you in the face while you’re trying to sleep.