Illustration by Drew Shannon
During cold Canadian winters, covers are king. And as king of my castle, I want to be snug as a bug in a northern rug.
But my wife, the queen bed bee, has other ideas.
Throughout the night, she tosses, tugs, twists and turns; she slides and slivers, shakes and shimmies. The covers become a cover. Singular. Just for her.
Looking for love in fair Verona, where Romeo wooed his Juliet
She doesn’t leave nearly enough to cover my side of the bed, not to mention my frustration. I’m left shivering in my sleepwear.
And so I counter with a tug and a tussle, a pull and a prod, hoping she’ll give me back what she’s stolen from me in her sleep – my comfort. Sometimes, she relents. I hear a deep sleep sigh followed by a turn in my direction, effectively releasing her nocturnal grip on our supposed-to-be shared sheets.
Now’s my chance.
I gently reclaim my half of the conjugal covers. I pull softly, settle in. I’m warm once more. But like the certain return of winter’s wind, I wake to a chill. And I’m out in the open once more.
Big sigh.
I lay there in my half-sleep slumber, my chattering teeth the only sound, pondering my prone predicament. Must I endure this bad blanket behaviour for the rest of my married days? Is this toss and turn torture not in breach of at least some part of Canada’s Civil Marriage Act? I decided I needed to take a stand and protect my right to lie down in comfort. But where to start? I can’t simply blurt out over morning coffee that she’s the reason a chill has come over our marriage during the overnight hours. She’d quickly dismiss me, claiming I was making a mountain out of a minor marital molehill. I needed a plan.
I went undercover, so to speak.
I dove into my research in secret. I learned that marriage, for civil purposes, is the lawful union of two persons to the exclusion of all others – but not the exclusion of covers. Check. I found out that everything that makes for a successful marital union requires free and enlightened consent – both parties must agree on what and when to share, even when asleep. Check. But this last point would bring back my warm winter nights: equal protection and equal benefit must be conferred on both parties for any marriage to work – everything must be shared 50-50. Check. I was ready.
I conjured up my courage and presented my cold case.
She laughed. For a long time. She laughed so hard she snorted – twice. I thought she might fall to her knees, not in deference to my plight but because she was overcome with hilarity. But, when she regained control, she saw I was serious. She quickly vowed to keep me covered. I was relieved but not entirely convinced. But I took her at her word. I was looking forward to a good and warm night’s sleep.
Alas, late into that same night, she exposed me again.
That’s it, I thought. She can’t keep me hanging by a 500-weave thread count. I have to put an Endy to this on-again off-again bad bed behaviour.
I must file for a duvet divorce.
I began by listing my demands for when we separate our sheets. First, both of us must get an equal share so we can cover our assets. Second, if she requests visitation rights, I might relent – but only when I’m warm. Third, if things get really hot, we can negotiate extended stays. Finally, if she continues to commit these cold cover crimes, it’s off to guest room jail (for me).
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to ghost her like a Casper. At spring thaw, I’m even open to reconciliation. But if she doesn’t provide me with the cover I need during these long winter nights, we’re going back to “ar-bed-tration.”
My demands on paper and my resolve renewed, I was actually looking forward to our time alone together at night. Partly because there are so many cover options to choose from. I’ve narrowed it down to two choices, both made right here in Canada. The single “Silk and Snow” comforter is for those who want weighty coverage. It’s fluffy, airy and comes with a 100-night free trial. That’s about the length of most Canadian winters! Alternatively, I’m going with the “Four Seasons 1867 Duvet,” with its goose-down feathers ethically sourced straight from Canadian farms. Yes, the true north strong and free was founded on true patriot love and a good night’s sleep. Soon I’ll be rested, not red-eyed.
But I’m also left with some nagging nighttime questions.
Could my desire for a duvet divorce lead to a more lasting separation of sorts? Might we end up getting too comfortable? Will she miss me? Will I miss her? Could it be that, even when she leaves me out in the cold, I’ll come to miss the warmth of the nightly reminder that she’s right there beside me?
Bigger sigh.
I guess I’ll go easy on my demands, lest I end up sleeping permanently alone in bedspread dread. But I’m not giving up.
I got this covered.
Joe Doiron lives in Dartmouth, N.S.
First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.