Poor sap without pillow can blame my wife

Somewhere, some poor sap is sleeping without a pillow, and it’s probably because my wife, Jenny, has it.
Not in a literal sense, as I can assure people all of the pillows on our bed were purchased by us and not taken from someone else’s bed. But – I counted them this morning while making the bed – we have nine full-sized pillows and two mini-pillows, a number well above the amount people are probably allotted by the pillow fairy, which means some poor sap must be without a pillow.
After the bed is made, and the pillows are propped up, more than half of our bed is covered in pillows. Our two cats, BigE and Priscilla, who like to sleep on the bed during the day, practically have to fight each other to claim rights to the small portion not covered by pillows.
Given Priscilla’s enormous size – she’s a big cat, although Jenny claims she is just big boned – BigE is left to find someplace else to nap, a place that’s not nearly as comfortable as our bed and a place that’s probably like the hard, pillowless place that the poor sap without a pillow has to sleep because my wife has too many pillows.
Jenny claims the pillows help her stay comfortable at night. She puts her head on at least three of them, and then surrounds her back and chest with four more, creating a barricade of pillows that leaves me six inches of bed space to sleep on. As someone who goes to bed several hours after Jenny, I often toss some of the pillows onto the floor to give me a few more inches of space to fit my big frame.
I refuse to put my head on more than one pillow because I have found the more parallel my head is with the mattress the more comfortable I am when I sleep. I can’t sleep without a pillow, though, as being directly parallel to the mattress creates an awkward feeling.
It’s an awkward feeling I hope that the poor sap without a pillow doesn’t mind. But I’m sure there is probably somebody out there that actually likes sleeping without one, much like Jenny likes sleeping with nine (plus two mini ones) of them.
She has told me she wouldn’t mind more pillows for the bed, a thought that scares me because physically there is little room for any more. Does it mean she’s trying to slowly weed me out of our bed and onto the couch? Does it mean she’s becoming a diva who wants to sleep on a bed of pillows, much like an ancient goddess would sleep on a bed of clouds?
Or does it just mean she likes the comfort pillows can provide?
I’ll vote for the latter, as I’m fairly confident she still likes having me around and isn’t ready to toss me away just yet, and her actions outside of sleeping are normally un-diva like.
And though I like to tease her about her love for pillows and the fact she doesn’t give me much of the bed to sleep on, I really don’t mind. When I returned home during my college years, I was relegated to staying in a small room without a real bed – just a twin-sized mattress on the floor – so I adjusted a long time ago to sleeping in places many others might find uncomfortable.
Sleeping in a bed of pillows with a lovely wife is almost like paradise. I’ll just keep my fingers crossed in hopes that the poor sap without a pillow isn’t sleeping in a nightmare-like place wishing he or she just had one pillow.
In all fairness, I’m giving Jenny some space to respond to my allegations/comments. This is what she had to say:
“There is nothing wrong with having lots of pillows, and I am not a diva. I use the pillows strategically. I typically have two under my head to reach the appropriate consistency for comfort. One goes upright against the headboard so I don’t bang my head, and to block the light from the alarm clock. I then use one to support my back.
“Another pillow is used to hug – that is a comfort thing. I’m too old to sleep with my cabbage patch doll that I’ve had since childhood.
“Another is used between my knees – a tip from the chiropractor – to help with back pain. That is seven.
“Others are used for a defense against the cats – I can throw them at the furry alarm clocks without harming them to make them stop running around at 3 a.m., or use it to push Priscilla to another spot on the bed, as she insists on sleeping right where my legs go, and when I try to move the 24-pounder in the middle of her “cat nap” she bites me and hisses. The pillow is protection.
“And finally, they can be used to muffle the sound of my husband, Darth Vader, sleeping next to me.”
If I were Darth Vader, though, I would use a simple mind trick to convince her she doesn’t need all those pillows.