Warm Blankets And Fluffy Pillows

As a general rule, I hate sleepovers. When I was a teenager they were terrible. I cannot tell you how many cold, hard floors I slept upon. Even worse, paper thin pillows and flimsy blankets. It makes me wonder what the hell parents were thinking.  Where is the hospitality people?

My back hurts just thinking about those sleepless nights on dirty carpeting. Because we all know about dust mites now, and how any type of flooring is never truly clean. Let me just say, no carpeting, not even shag, is equivalent to the glorious nature of a mattress.

And why was it always so damn cold? How many times did I bury my face in my sweatshirt and pray my nose didn't fall off due to frostbite? Too many to count. Did these people not know how to work a thermostat? And these abhorrent sleepover conditions didn't exist in just one friend's home. No. They were always the same. Oh, and I distinctly remember waking up at five in the morning and staring at the ceiling waiting for my friend to wake up, who just so happened to be snug in her warm, cushy bed.

I went because I thought that was what I was supposed to do. A normal teenager thing. But how I loathed it. All I wanted was my own bed. For all the girls to shut up. To not be terrified of farting in my sleep. And to be able to get up and go pee without waking the whole house when I flushed the toilet. Not to mention stomach aches. Getting one at a sleepover sucked. No one likes pooping at anyone else's house.

I suppose the whole concept of sleepovers is fun in theory but I have back problems to this day and I blame it on those hard bedroom floors. In truth,  I still hate them and find myself wishing teleportation was all ironed out and up and running. But it isn't and there are times I have to stay at other people's houses.

Thankfully as an adult I can be more selective with who I stay with and don't feel pressured to accept sleepover requests from individuals who might stick me with a threadbare blanket or even worse, no blanket. Yep, been there, done that. The thing is, I am old. There will be no sleeping on area rugs! Paper thin pillows shall be no more!

When I cross the ocean to the mainland, the people who put me up, or put up with me, seem to genuinely care about my comfort and the general wellbeing of my back. They have fluffy pillows and warm blankets and I don't have to sleep on the floor. I like to think they too experienced the atrocious sleepover conditions of the nineties and refuse to make anyone else suffer as they did.

Whatever their reasons, they are beautiful creatures who I am eternally grateful for. Huzzah for people who understand the ingredients for a good night's sleep.