Just kidding, I’m not ripping of Ann Patchett.

Kevin and I watch a lot of home renovation shows.  (Property Brothers is our absolute favorite.)  At different periods in our lives we’ve watched them for different reasons- out of curiosity and interest, out of anticipation for our own reno and, currently, out of the desperate desire to be reassured that one day our renovations will end and we’ll love this shell of a house.  (Two months in and no end in sight.  Never live in a reno, folks!)

Something that people say surprisingly often on these shows is that ‘the secret to a happy marriage is two bathrooms.’  Barring that (usually barring that- who can afford two master bathrooms?- they tend to settle for separate sinks.  Apparently a rigid divide between his products and her products is crucial for the modern marriage.  Usually because someone has snarky opinions about makeup.

While Kevin and I are looking forward to our future master bathroom which will- yes- have two sinks, we long ago came to the conclusion that it’s not the bathroom that will preserve domestic felicity.  Nope, it’s the bed.

(Don’t be dirty- not that.  Although…)

Another old marriage chestnut is that one partner is always a furnace when unconscious, either allowing their mate to snuggle closer for warmth or forcing them to flee to more temperate climes at the far end of the bed.  And yet everyone is apparently perfectly content to share covers, nevermind the endless tug-of-war that results or the too-hot-too-cold conundrum.

Ergo, the secret to happiness is not sharing blankets.  Yup- his and hers sheets.

Well, maybe not quite that dramatic.  But his and hers whatever makes you comfortable.

I am naturally cold-blooded as an iguana.  For me to function I need a good eight hours on a sunny rock, followed by enthusiastic burrowing into a positive mountain of blankets.  It’s gotten so even when it’s blistering out I can’t sleep without the comforting weight of a blanket over me- luckily cotton wide-woven blankets do the trick.

Kevin, on the other hand, sleeps under a sheet.  Maybe a blanket if the temperature dips below freezing.  It boggles my mind.

When we lived in Hawaii, it was hot enough that most nights I only needed the cotton blanket.  For about two weeks in the winter it would get cold enough that I would sneak some of Kevin’s sheet and add a second cotton blanket.  Before Hawaii I had an enormous quilt that I made out of old t-shirts (no easy task- I sneezed t-shirt lint for a week after) that was big enough to cover our whole bed but which lived exclusively on my half with the leftover trailing on the floor in a cozy puddle.  Kevin, slept under a duvet with the lightest lining I’ve ever met.

And you know what?  We slept great.

What’s your trick to a successful relationship?  Separate kitchens?  Individual coathooks?  I’d love to hear it!

 

P.S.  My manuscript is at 64,183 words!