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philenaIn one of the packages that I have been receiving from my kind mother were two feather pillows that I've had since I was tiny tiny tiny. I was delighted to have them, you see, because in Chicago I had two pillows, which formed exactly the right height for my head and neck. I remember looking back at the indentation my head had made on the pillows in the mornings in Chicago, and wishing with all my heart that I could lie there on the comfy pillows for longer. Sometimes I believe that my mid-afternoon naps in Chicago were inspired not by weariness or the comfort of the bed, but by the invitation of my pillows, which sometimes still seemed to have the indentation of my head on them.
When I moved to California, my sleeping conditions changed significantly, and mostly for the better. Daniel is here now, and that's important. However, we now have been sharing my two pillows, and if you do the math, you will realize that while two pillows for one person resulted in one person having two pillows, the current situation, two pillows for two people, results in each person having only one pillow. I've played with this: I've tried to get the ends of the pillows to overlap, and I've tried stealing Daniel's pillow, but it doesn't really work. So the delivery of the package was very, very welcome.
Except, alas, a new obstacle has arisen. Daniel was so far from objecting to having only one pillow himself that he could not understand the desire for more. So as I lay comfortable ensconced in pillowy goodness last night, he took every routine change of position as an excuse to mock me. "Ah," he would say, "are you and your retinue of pillows quite comfortable?" And then later, "Yes, yes, turn over, and take your retainer of pillows with you." And maybe this was in the morning, he would say, "I can't see why you need a hundred pillows. Why not make do with fifty, or five and twenty, or even one? Goodness, why do you need any?" But at this point he had run out of his own snarks and was stealing Goneril's and Regan's, so I didn't smack him. Or I don't think I did. It was in the morning, remember, and my memory isn't in the best of shape in the mornings.
In other news, we went to San Francisco today, strolled around the North Beach, Financial District, and Market Street areas, and looked at the City Lights bookstore, where we acquired a collection of Chekhov's comic stories (in fact, they do exist!) and the Kolyma Tales by Shalamov. I also decided I want to read the new Ann Patchett book, but since the first two purchases set us back $35 I'll leave it for another day. My goodness, books are expensive!
When I moved to California, my sleeping conditions changed significantly, and mostly for the better. Daniel is here now, and that's important. However, we now have been sharing my two pillows, and if you do the math, you will realize that while two pillows for one person resulted in one person having two pillows, the current situation, two pillows for two people, results in each person having only one pillow. I've played with this: I've tried to get the ends of the pillows to overlap, and I've tried stealing Daniel's pillow, but it doesn't really work. So the delivery of the package was very, very welcome.
Except, alas, a new obstacle has arisen. Daniel was so far from objecting to having only one pillow himself that he could not understand the desire for more. So as I lay comfortable ensconced in pillowy goodness last night, he took every routine change of position as an excuse to mock me. "Ah," he would say, "are you and your retinue of pillows quite comfortable?" And then later, "Yes, yes, turn over, and take your retainer of pillows with you." And maybe this was in the morning, he would say, "I can't see why you need a hundred pillows. Why not make do with fifty, or five and twenty, or even one? Goodness, why do you need any?" But at this point he had run out of his own snarks and was stealing Goneril's and Regan's, so I didn't smack him. Or I don't think I did. It was in the morning, remember, and my memory isn't in the best of shape in the mornings.
In other news, we went to San Francisco today, strolled around the North Beach, Financial District, and Market Street areas, and looked at the City Lights bookstore, where we acquired a collection of Chekhov's comic stories (in fact, they do exist!) and the Kolyma Tales by Shalamov. I also decided I want to read the new Ann Patchett book, but since the first two purchases set us back $35 I'll leave it for another day. My goodness, books are expensive!