We’ve established here that I’ve always been that person.
The one who habitually sleeps with all her limbs placed firmly under the covers, despite that she is in fact, a full-grown woman. Only people who flail about will be grabbed straight from under the bed by nightmare daymons and Freddy Krueger. Duh. {It’s not lost on me that sometimes, I have to check under the bed for our kids, and reassure them that it’s all okay. Shhhh. I keep that one to myself. Mama’s brave.}
there was definitely a murderer in this closet
I’m also the one who checks behind the shower curtain before she uses the loo, no matter where I am. {Can you think of a more compromising position in which to be stabbed?} I believe I’d be more horrified of the cops finding my body… old habits die hard.
And I’m the one who once found a random hairnet in her home and rationally concluded that a fingerless, serial killer / fry cook had broken in, and hidden in her attic, ready to pounce.
It happens, y’all.
Total side note, but also speaking of home invaders: When he was younger, whenever in the car, Malone would ask us why there were no ninjas allowed in our neighborhood. We were always a bit confused.
“No ninjas? We really don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy.”
He was adamant about the non-admittance of said ninjas. He proclaimed that he saw a sign telling him as much, after we’d turned down the road and passed said sign. So we asked him to show us the the next time he saw it, and one day he burst out with “SEE?! It says NO NINJAS!”
So we promptly made him get out and pose by the sign to properly document this moment.
Just like when they called palm trees “pom pom trees” or bras “boobyalls”. These moments are too hilariously fleeting to miss.
So back again on the topic of paranoia: It doesn’t help that for years, my daughter has sleepwalked. Imagine waking up to this. Or opening your eyes to someone standing over you, perfectly motionless.
True story: This is what I actually woke up to, our first December in our new bedroom. NOT CREEPY AT ALL. I made her stand there and take a picture once I was fully awake since I LOST FULL CONTROL OF MY BLADDER.
Combo this out with my sleep paralysis, and I’m Murphy’s Law on a mattress.
Maybe it has a lot to do with my love for all things true crime podcasts combined with my overactive imagination and an occasionally nice side of over exhaustion. I’m pretty good at worst case scenarios. But major confession, because amongst all those aforementioned delightful traits I possess, I’m also the person who makes her husband sleep on the side closest to the door.
Jamin always thought we slept a certain way, because we just slept a certain way.
Little did he know, he’s just a murder buffer.
In our last house, I was on the right side, and he was on the left. Both of our parents slept like this. We even discussed it jokingly, as if it was handed down for generations of tradition. Like Biblical Abraham or something. {Abe also had two wives, ew.} But as soon as we moved into our current house, I claimed the left side, and he, reluctantly, the right. He was confused, because he thought I was totally going along with his right side rule.
It took him a while to catch on to what I was doing. Years, to be exact. He always waited for me to claim a side whenever we stayed somewhere else, like a hotel. But he never knew why.
Until one day, I explained it to him.
In our first apartment, his side of the bed was closest to the door. Therefore, I slept on the right.
In our second apartment, same.
Next house, same.
Last house… you guessed it. Different.
JK. It was the same.
A definite pattern here. Different rooms had the same alignment, and therefore I’d never challenged our arrangement before.
He was truly confused when I announced that it was time for him to sleep on the right side.
So was I. How long have you known me? I asked.
Now, years later on his new side, he says he doesn’t sleep as well anymore. That it’s messed with his alignment, and that he’ll never be the same.
I responded with “Cool cool,” and promptly settled in atop my heating pad for the night, on the appropriate, less-threatening side with a good murder mystery at 7:30 pm like the proper old lady that I am.
I say if he can sleep like a rabid alligator on a washer’s spin cycle after capturing a gazelle in Africa, I can pick my side of the bed.
Of course my life goal is to have two king sized beds in one room, where we each get one. That would be a perfect world. And I would still pick an entire king sized bed that was NOT closest to the door. And so as my husband, he has gladly taken on this role. Kind of. We’re still working on it.
He took absolute joy in watching me debate my stance, when he asked me which side of the bed I should like to sleep on this past July at a beach house. Especially when the bedroom had glass doors on the right side, leading to the outside, and the bedroom door was on the left. He thought he had me with such a conundrum. {Our new bedroom has the same problem. }
“DUH, Jamin. I’m sleeping on the left. The side with the greater threat is your side. Someone is more likely to break in through the back glass doors, and therefore, you get the right. You struggle with them while I gather the kids and escape. I collect life insurance. Everyone wins.”
True love, because he didn’t bat an eye. We then proceeded to debate the logistics of this entire process for a good thirty minutes with the pros and cons of each side and of a serial killer’s approach. The kids had a little trouble falling asleep that night, and we’re not sure why.
KIDDING about the kid part because we don’t discuss murders in front of them that often. Only at family dinners.
I am the one who was almost kidnapped for the love of rugs, after all.
So here’s to you and all of you and your weird sleeping idiosyncrasies, especially when combined with potential murders. It makes the world go round. This is a judge-free zone, besides my strong stance on women’s rights vs. polygamy vs. Abraham, oh, and pumpkins on porches in early August. I do have my limits.
So cheers to my side of the bed. The proper one with a heating pad and a scary book to keep me awake for five more hours past my bedtime so I don’t let my limbs fall out of the side in case Freddy Krueger comes because that movie totes ruined me in the fifth grade. RIP Johnny Depp. I have no idea why I’m always so tired…
The world has bigger problems, I know. But at least the hubs makes an excellent murder buffer.
LIz says
I always love these type of posts!
ashley @ the handmade home says
It makes my day that you let us know. Thank you Liz! This is why I started all this in the first place. It’s my favorite too. ;}
Deb says
Man, I never thought of sleeping patterns like that! I always wanted to be closer to the door because of the kids. At first you worry about them climbing out of the crib then you worry about teenagers sneaking out of the house. Worrying about murderers never crossed my mind…but it will now! Lol. but I am totally with you on the two kingsize beds!
ashley @ the handmade home says
Bonus to making your partner the murder buffer: they also serve as a kid buffer so… 😀 Happy Friday!
Anna says
This is hysterical. Just what I needed today! I refuse to pee without moving the shower curtain either haha!
Rebecca says
Mine is also a storm buffer. He usually has to sleep closest to the door to protect from said intruders, but on stormy nights he has to swap sides to the one closest to the windows. 🙂
ashley @ the handmade home says
You just added a whole new dimension to all the possibilities 😀
BamaCarol says
Love this! I am stubborn about my closet door being closed at night because of the scary murder clown that is just waiting to get me. If the door is closed, I’m safe! I’m 62 by the way – I guess we never grow out of these things.
ashley @ the handmade home says
This is absolutely amazing. SAME with the MURDER CLOWNS 😀
Pam says
Yes. This all so true. I agree with you on every point, every scenario. My husband had to be the Murder Buffer throughout our marriage but never knew why. Hah. I only wish I’d come up with that name – so funny. Also the Murder Clowns. One thing, though.. being very claustrophobic I cannot have my arms under the covers so that still leaves me vulnerable. I’ve actually given my daughter instructions to never let the nurses tuck me in tightly should I be unconscious in a hospital bed. I would somehow know and panic internally. As for the sleep walking – my daughter did the same thing to me. It sure is unnerving but she’s grown now and her little guy has done that to her so…payback. Not to bore you, but when the kids were young, my oldest son hid under her bed after she went to sleep, reached up and grabbed her foot. I’m sure I don’t need to describe what happened after that [and the decibel level] but we all still talk and laugh about it years later. Good times. You can never be too careful. At night. In the dark…ha.
Sandy says
Simple. No matter where we are, hubby always wants the side closest to the bathroom.
Oven Fresh Cake says
Really great idea. Thank you.
Victoria says
This type of thing can be linked to anxiety. I used to need every single ‘gap’ filled, like the duvet was a force field, so a part of my body had to touch all of the duvet edge. I was 11 I think and we lived in a rundown cottage on the edge of a moor and to go to the loo in the night I had to climb down from my camp bed, walk downstairs in the dark with a window behind me and a glass front door at the bottom, then in front of an uncovered plate glass window into a really dank bathroom. Then do the whole thing backwards. It was basically Wuthering Heights 🙂
I’m a bit better now but I have to sleep on the side that feels closest to the easiest ‘escape’ route, usually the side that has the most space around it. I’m not properly claustrophobic but don’t like feeling like I can’t get out of somewhere. Tucking the blankets in too tight starts me off!
That photo of your daughter was scary just seeing it, let alone it happening to me! I did that to my mum a few times.
Kristen says
This is me to a T! Except the closet also proves an issue, so we have to lock that baby. My husband, however, has always known he was the Murder Buffer. 🙂
ashley @ the handmade home says
DUDE there are documented events re serial killers hiding in closets! I’ve really got to quit with the whole true crime podcast nonsense 😀 But I FEEL YA