More
Close

Zimbardi Sheets

+ enlarge
 

There are certain qualities that my husband Dan and I brought to our relationship that were very different from each other. Vast expanses of differences. There are certain traits, both positive and negative, that we have picked up from each other in the past seven years. I am a slob and I think I have made my husband a bit more slob-ish than he was when we married. He now loves avocado, something he had never eaten until he moved California. I now hiccup like him. I never had loud hiccups and Dan’s are very distinct and I swear I now hiccup in the same distinct way … I can’t control it. I think that one of the biggest differences we have, besides the constant need for circulating air or Bruce Springsteen, is something we call Zimbardi Sheets.


There is no debating that I lack in some home-ec skills. I took typing. But I was always very particular about my sheets. In college, no one was ever allowed to sit on my bed and I honestly can say friendships were tested over coming into my dorm room and seeing someone sitting on my comforter. And don’t even think about touching my pillow. Even my daughter, PerryAnn was not allowed to sleep on my pillow. I would wash my sheets at least once a week with Clorox and make the bed using hospital corners. At night, I would pull the sheets down just enough for me to climb in and make sure all other sides were still tucked. It was honestly a bit of an obsession.


Dan, (a wonderful and adoring husband, don’t get me wrong) with his need for constant air blown directly on him from all directions at all times, likes his sheets to be free … free like the wind. He does not like them tucked at all and actually will bunch them up so that his feet are sticking out and his limbs are released from all sides and from any sort of sheet captivity. Picture a toga and that is how it looks. “They’re Zimbardi Sheets” was Dan’s gleeful explanation for the hows and whys of his sheet management policy. I think he said it expecting my response to be a just as gleeful, “oh, OK, well ZIMBARDI Sheets, why didn’t you say that in the first place … that makes all the difference … no one said they were “ZIMBARDI” sheets … I would be honored to sleep entwined in ZIMBARDI sheets.”


So you see the issue. I used (key word “used”) to have a rule that turned into a plea that became a request that morphed into a favor that ended up an afterthought, that the first person in the bed at least straightened the sheets. (I gave up on the hope that they would stay tucked all night.) This is so that the other person would not come to bed later and then in the dark have to push and pull the sheets and have to untangle them to get their portion. The rule never seemed to stick and I found myself giving up on my need for complete fabric enclosure.


I realized the night before last when I woke up with the sheet completely wrapped around my head and chest with the blanket on Dan’s side and the comforter tossed on the floor that I have now embraced Zimbardi Sheets. I no longer fix the sheets daily to be perfectly tucked. I survey how they were left from the night before and just take what I need. I don’t know when this happened but I think it has been awhile. I can’t remember the month or year that I gave up that ghost but I think it must have been more of a gradual process. Our differences are becoming less and less. I can honestly say I don’t think I will ever love Springsteen but maybe we will start looking like each other or does that only apply to your dog? They are both cute.

Comments

Loading comments...