There are many problems that come up during the course of a marriage. Some big, some small and some that never get resolved because neither partner wants to compromise. My husband and I have one issue where I refuse to give so much as an inch. Most assuredly I would love to find an equitable solution to this problem but I can’t and it’s because I have an addiction – to pillows.
Yes, that’s right, pillows. Bed pillows, throw pillows, decorative pillows, Euro squares, bolster – they all call out to me. I firmly believe a home isn’t a home without an abundance of down stuffed pillows.
I have what I like to call a curated pillow collection that changes seasonally. And as the curator I feel the need to “refresh” this collection on a continuous basis whenever I spy a pillow that I view as a cozy statement piece.
Over the years my husband has expressed his distinct lack of enthusiasm for my pillow collecting. His behavior plays out on a nightly basis when he throws all the lovely decorative pillows off our bed onto the floor while muttering, “Why? Just why?”
The poor soul is severely lacking in any kind of pillow appreciation. If he had his way there would only be two standard size pillows on the bed – one for his head and one for mine. Even worse they would be stuffed with some kind of generic polyester fiberfill. The horrors!
The fact that he can’t appreciate the difference between chunks of fiberfill smushed into a questionable synthetic case and a pillow with a mix of feather and goose down swaddled in a 300 thread count cotton sateen cover makes me shudder.
Now before you brand me a raging snob please note that I’m in no way a pompous pillow person. To officially be considered high and mighty about your pillows you need to know the birthplace of the feathers you’re laying your head on.
For example, I have one friend who only buys St. Petersburg Siberian goose down pillows because they’re super fancy and apparently are legendary for their “fluff and loft.” They’re also expensive (like $1,000 per pillow expensive). Her pillows also come with a certificate of authenticity. Mine come with a Macy’s receipt.
It’s not that I haven’t tried to restrict the number of pillows in my home. I promise I have. For instance, on the couch in our family room there’s only six pillows. A half dozen decorative pillows on a couch sounds not just perfectly reasonable but also, in my opinion, shows extreme restraint.
The good news is as a pillow collector and curator you can always find ways to mingle with like-minded individuals. Last week I had the loveliest of conversations with a woman at a home decorating store who like me had her cart literally stuffed with pillows.
We bonded over the fact that our husbands hated pillows and as we talked we discovered another thing we had in common. We both were going to have to sneak these new pillows into our homes.
Yes, it’s come to that. In an effort to not increase my spouse’s pillow torment I’ve become very clandestine about my purchases. Does the man need to know that a couch is getting a seasonal refresh to plaid pillows? Absolutely not. Over the years I’ve figured out if the number of pillows on the couch stays the same he doesn’t comment on the new pillows.
Hmm, I guess we have reached a pillow détente. Does this mean I can get more pillows?
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I feel the same way about books as I do about pillows – you can never have too many! If you haven’t read the FIVE Snarky books please take a lookie-loo by clicking on this link. https://linktr.ee/snarkyinthesuburbs
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Snarky in the Suburbs 