The female need to pile a bed with useless pillows is an old and not particularly novel observation. It mystifies men. It’s like serving a meal where the plate is loaded with Show Potatoes, and you have to remove ten tubers before you can start. It’s like having a workbench in the garage with Show Hammers. Don’t pound with that! That’s the nice hammer we want company to see! It’ll get nicked and dinged. Or like going to someone’s house and finding out they have a Show Dog. No, no, don’t pat him on the head. Here, use this dog. And there’s some panting happy mutt they pull out of a closet. This is the company dog.
It reminds me of the bathrooms of my childhood, which were stocked with forbidden things: decorative soap in a nice dish engraved with intricate patterns that evaporated on contact with water, and decorative towels. You ended up drying your hands on the curtains, or patting them dry on the inevitable polyester shag toilet-seat cover.
Anyway. You’re wondering how I recovered from this grotesque embarrassment. I fetched two pillows from Daughter’s unoccupied room, apologized on behalf of the male side of the species, and figured the matter was closed. Oh no. Ohhhh, no. The next morning my wife made up the guest room, and emerged with an expression of despair.
The pillowcases did not match.
One was white. The other — and I tremble with shame to write these words — was ivory.
Well, an apology was in order. But how? Maybe bring it up in a roundabout way at breakfast.
“So … how’d you sleep?”
“Oh … okay, I guess. Weird dreams. I was in a paint store, looking at those strips with the different hues, and two of the shades of white looked different but I couldn’t really tell if they were and then I started crying tears in two different shades of white and when the tears hit the floor they burned like acid, and then horrible off-white slugs oozed out of the hole and started singing ABBA songs in two different keys.”
“Huh. And you?”
“I had weird dreams too. There were two philosophers who agreed on everything except for one minor, obscure point, but instead of focusing on their agreement they argued about the small difference until they decided to have a duel, but the guns didn’t fire.”
“Ah, those would be the Show Pistols. Freud had something to say about those. Well, that’s on me. The pillowcase hues were not in sync. I hope we can get past this and enjoy the day.”
James Lileks, “Show Me the Pillows”, LILEKS (James), 2024-09-30.
January 4, 2025
QotD: The “show pillows”
No Comments »
No comments yet.
RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL
