April 20, 2014

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The Case of the Bloody Pillow Case

How to lose several years off your life with one good fright!

Recently I've been fascinated with pillows.

Some people sleep with just one, some two, and some with long tubular pillows that they snuzzle with all night.

But doctors have said you should not overly prop up your head, just support it comfortably for best result.  As a result, I usually lay on a slab pillow that is wearing out. (They do have a life, you know.)

Last night, I woke during the night with a stiff neck.  My wife had left the floor fan angled at the bed enough so that a cool draft had been on my neck, causing the muscles to kink.  I remember rocking my head, feeling the kink and bounding out of bed.

For some reason, in my delirium at 5 a.m., I had assumed it was my pillow that was the culprit, so  I went into the master bath and ran a hot shower, to loosen the neck muscles.  After a few minutes, I was as good as I was going to get, but still tired and sleepy.  I dried and dressed again.

 Then I flipped on the lights in the hallway, which spill into all our bedrooms and I walked to my son's room, which is empty. (He's at summer camp this week).  I snatched his pillow off his bed and returned to my bedroom throwing my slab to the floor and flopping his down in place.   I moved the fan, and went to turn off all the lights again.

My wife sat up and asked what was wrong.   I laid down on the bed and as my head hit the pillow, I curtly told her that I had just switched pillows cause I had a stiff neck.  I thought the matter was finished as I dropped off to sleep again.

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My wife got up early at her usual time, and after having breakfast and dressing, she was preparing to leave in the early dawn light, when she hesitated in the darkened master bedroom.

She sat down on the bed and leaning over me, worriedly asked me "Kirk, is your head bleeding?"

I could hear the concern in her voice, which was verging on panic.  My eyes snapped open and I looked straight at her.  She wasn't kidding.  I racked my brain for a cause, and immediately thought of a mosquito bite on my forehead from the last week.  "No, I don't think so, why,"  I asked?

I rolled my head away from her looking at the pillow to my left, expecting to see a small streak of dried blood and was met by a clear field of sky blue.

"Oh," she blurts out.  "It's just Harry Potter!"  I'm thoroughly confused at this point, and leap from the bed, not sure what I'm going to find under my head.  "It's just his scarlet  robe" she says. "Go back to bed."

My head had been laying directly over the cartoon figure of Harry Potter on my son's pillow case, blocking all except his flowing scarlet robe. It is flapping in the breeze behind the figure as it flies on a broomstick.

The scarlet robe must have looked like a large puddle of blood!  Coupled with my dismissive comment about a stiff neck, my wife was primed to expect something seriously wrong with me.

We both had had a good scare in the early morning light.

Is it any wonder why I can't sleep soundly this week?  I gotta replace that pillow!

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