Undercover agent

Internet, I have a confession to make. I, like many males on the face of this great planet, am a cover hog. If I am ever sleeping in your bed, I will steal your covers, writhe around and frolic in them like a dog trying to rid himself of the unbearable stench of shampoo in his fur. And the great irony of it all is that I don't even NEED the covers. Don't use 'em. Never really have. No, instead, I steal them and LIE ON TOP OF THEM, as if reveling atop a pile of money.

Fortunately, somehow, in our unconscious, slobbering slumber, my wife and I have occasionally found ways to share - it's not uncommon now to wake up with the comforter twisted around my limbs, like it was thrown into a propeller. Meanwhile, the blanket and sheet lay virtually untouched and unwrinkled on my wife's side (I would say over my wife, but by the time I wake up, she's already been up for hours. No, I don't get it either. SO not a morning person.)

But last night, in what can only be described as an act of extreme generosity, my dozing wife gave me ALL of the covers - she went to bed earlier than me, and must have dreamed she was a snowplow, because the comforter, blanket and top sheet were all piled up on my side of the bed in a pre-emptive strike on my ineluctable bedcover thievery.