Peel your eyes away from the pajama-clad children and the stack of books on the bedside table (Nick Hornby and some scriptures).
The blue pillow at the top of the bed is my pillow, and its position is where I find it every morning. Notice the split of our queen-sized bed.
50/50? No. 60/40? Nah. 70/30? Now we're getting somewhere.
My husband and I start out with an even amount of bed real estate every night. Caleb is a cuddler, so he is often on my side of the bed anyway. If you want to get technical, you can check out the arrangement of his pillows and see that there's a vertical one that takes up even MORE room. It is room he's not even using.
Don't cry for me, everyone. I am not a martyr—I'm just a girl who can't get a good night's rest without being nearly pushed out of bed.
Quick anecdote:
On the night of our wedding, Caleb and I slept well. In the middle of the night, I woke up to Caleb slamming me with his forearm repeatedly. I shouted at him to stop and he looked at me, frightened. He had perceived that I was falling out of the bed and he was trying pull me to safety. A brand-new husband was trying to keep his bride (of less than 24 hours) from falling out of the king-sized bed. Caleb is so dear, but dude can be silly sometimes.
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