No, our pillows.
I could happily sleep with a dozen, but my spouse considers extras speed bumps in the night. So I content myself with daytime heaps of decorative pillows on our bed.
When Hubby makes the bed, he sometimes forgets the universe will implode with the green pillow in the middle rather than the white.
Fear not. I continue to rescue the cosmos.
I also help him regarding sofa cushions. Our geometric pillow must always be matched with the sage green cushion. Never the brick red.
No one should desecrate them with actual use. Both Hubby and grand-dog must understand that the aged, ameba-shaped cushion, stashed under a throw, is reserved for naps. And naps are permitted only when all 30 other pillows can be stacked on a spare sofa.
They are called toss cushions. But no throwing them on the floor!
“OC, aren’t you?” chorus a hundred voices.
The fact I hear voices doesn’t negate my point, which is … uh, yes, pillow power.
We must respect a product that upsets an entire continent. Australian health alerts demand that pillows be replaced every two years or frozen to kill dust mites. One manufacturer even conducted a free pillow exchange.
Pillows can exert power in positive ways, e.g., the OSTRICHPILLOW®. The owner inserts his head into a soft, closed tube, resting the padded “microenvironment” on his desk. Supposedly, a 20-minute nap using the OSTRICHPILLOW® increases work productivity by 37 percent.
Any nap might accomplish this. Still, who am I to deny the combined force of capitalism and catnap?
However, pillows can cause complications. Sleepers lose hours of rest, constantly awakening to refresh their pillows. For only $100, a sufferer can buy one filled with cool gel that reshapes itself. He should, however, take care not to drop it on his toe, as it weighs 14 pounds.
Or, for only $400, one can purchase an intelliPillow. Why so expensive? Because its name starts with a lowercase letter, with a capital in the middle. It also uses a complex air compressor for automatic adjustment.
Ultimate power, however, is evidenced in the classic pillow fight. Taking this ancient concept to a higher level, devotees use pillows shaped like scimitars, battle axes, and hand grenades.
Airline cushions sufficed, however, for passengers on one economy flight who took out lack-of-leg-room frustrations in a mass pillow fight. Hostilities resolved, they celebrated one flight attendant’s deadeye aim with loud applause.
Perhaps if world leaders engaged in a day-long pillow fight, peace might be a step closer.
A powerful idea.
As long as they don’t throw my sofa cushions.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Are you picky about your pillows?