Goldilocks and the three pillows
For the past 18 months I’ve woken up feeling like a crumpled-up granny. My joints ache, my shoulders ache and my neck is so tense it makes Burj Khalifa look like a strip of over-cooked spaghetti.
But, as one who hunches over her desk for at least five straight hours a day, I’ve put it down to bad posture. And then I had an epiphany: I don’t sit badly at my desk – and the neck pain is worse when I wake up. A bit of internet research and I realised that it’s my pillows, not my desk, that are causing the problem.
So I do what any self-respecting girl would do: I hit the shops in search of the perfect pillow. Alone, no one pillow does the job but, on yet another sleepless night of crippling neck pain, I decide I am once and for all going to find the goddamned perfect pillow.
So, between 2.30am and 5am, I march between the master bedroom and the spare room carrying spare pillows like an ant bringing flies to the Ant Queen as I try out every possible combination of Ikea, Debenhams, Pottery Barn and M&S pillows in order to find the perfect combo of height / density / support.
After some time, DH becomes aware of the commotion (perhaps I stomped too hard when the Debenhams Firm Support let me down. I really believed it could be my life partner).
‘What’s up?’ he asks groggily. He doesn’t really expect a reply, but…
‘I’m just trying to find the right pillow,’ I huff, looking jealously at his beautifully supported neck.
‘Grrrhhmmmp,’ says DH. ‘Didn’t you buy one? Like, in Ikea? Or Debenhams? Or M&S or something?’
‘None of them bl**dy work!’ I snap. ‘That one’s too high! That one’s too soft! And that one’s too low!’ I hurl the pillows to the floor in a tearful 5am strop. I’m all too aware I’ll be making packed lunches in an hour.
‘Okay , Goldilocks,’ sighs DH. ‘Keep your hair on.’
Whoever it was who said you need a husband who makes you laugh? I can tell you a hundred times: they were right.