A large dose of pride is being swallowed here. I don’t even want to say this, because it’s in writing. Someday down the road, Dylan will make a decision about our lives that I’m against and he will pull out the archives of this blog and show me this post. Lord help me, but I have to say it… Dylan was right. Let me back peddle a little…

Last Saturday we went to Sam’s Club to get all our goodies for the week. There was a “President’s Day Sale” on Mattresses, which had a mattress and box spring combination for some brand name mattress that Dylan decided was the holy grail. (Now listen, Dylan gets an idea in his head and there’s nothing else he thinks about until he gets exactly what he wants)┬áSo ALL night Saturday he mulled it over (aka tried to convince me to buy the mattress) and I said “no”. and then I continued to say no, and that I couldn’t afford it, and that I didn’t want it, and that I loved our bed, and that he will NOT be purchasing a bed.

Sunday, we went to buy the bed. Well, Dylan did. I didn’t want a bed, so Dylan said “I’ll show you” and charged his credit card. Then I protested in the U-Haul, while removing the California King from the house, and getting the new bed ready. Then we went to bed in the new bed and it wasn’t even a fun time.

Dylan is a human heater. Now I’m FORCED to sleep close to him on a queen sized bed, when I used to sleep four miles away from him on a GIANT KING BED. The first night was brutal. I woke up 16 times with Dylan’s limbs in my face, three pillows on my head, and sweat dripping everywhere. Ew. I actually had Dylan convinced that because he did this to me, and that my sleep was SO awful, that I should get one night a week where he sleeps on the couch (AND NOT THE BED HE BOUGHT) so I could sleep in peace. You know what he said? Yes. (I hit the jackpot, guys.)

Night Two, Three, and Four were awesome. I slept through the night. I slept hard. There were no springs in my back, the blankets didn’t get tangled, and we opened the window to cool down the apartment. Dylan was right. DYLAN WAS RIGHT. Dylan, you were right. This bed is glorious, and I’m sleeping like a queen. So ladies, moral of the story here: 99.7% of the time, men are wrong. That .3% though will change your life for the better.

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