Let me preface this by saying I love my husband. I love
I love the fact that he's dutch.
And being dutch makes him extra frugal.
He uses things until they are unusable.
Socks are worn paper thin.
Work shirts have holes and worn seams.
Sometimes people think I'm dressing a raggamuffin.Except I have nothing to do with how my husband dresses on any day.
Except Sunday. I help him with that.
Ok, onto my terrible wifedom.
You see, my husband has this...this....
It's been his pillow since he was in 5th grade.
Which makes that pillow...well, very very old.
Old enough to drive, vote, and enjoy an adult beverage.
It grossed me out.
I've been known to make a crinkled nose or two during sheet change day.
Over the past 9 years I've threatened to change it out.
"you wouldn't dare." he'd say.
Well, one night I managed to find my spine, and switched his pillow out with an extra one we had in our room.
He came to bed.
I laid there waiting for an eruption of "WHERE'S MY PILLOW?!?!"
He fell asleep.
So, I left Nasty on the ground where I threw her during the switch.
I pushed her under the bed with a brush of my foot.
FOUR NIGHTS LATER:
"Is this my pillow? Do you know where my pillow is? Is this my pillow?"
Me: (pretending to be mostly asleep, except my heart was beating so hard since I'd just been caught) "I don't know, honey. Go to sleep."
That was two weeks ago.
For two weeks, I've been sleeping with Nasty under my bed.
I threw her away.
That's right. I pulled her from under my bed, and bid Nasty a final farewell.
horrible, opportunistic wife who now has a very clean bed. :)