Last night, with my beautiful wife out-of-town for work, I found myself with the bed to myself. Well almost, considering that Kirby the Beagle always manages to park himself at some point during the night right in the middle of the bed. Always. So ignoring Kirby’s big furry in the middle of the bed butt for a moment, I had the bed all to myself.

Selecting Charlene’s side of the bed for a change of pace, I settled in to read a book. In spite of the fact that the book was starting to get exciting, I kept drifting off. Deciding it was time to call it quits, I reached over, checked the alarm clock, and turned off the lamp (Charlene’s side of the bed has all of the cool stuff. Clocks. Books. Lamps. You name it. What do I have? The door.).

A few hours later, right on time, the clock radio turned on. Sadly, it is pledge week on NPR, so I woke up to a plea for cash. Oh well, we all have our burdens to carry. The pledge drive was not the only thing that wasn’t right. I was on the wrong side of the bed. Well, actually I was on the right side of the bed. My side of the bed, but it was not the side where I fell asleep. Sure Kirby’s furry butt was in the precise middle of the bed, just as he thinks he should be, but I was out of place. Sometime during the middle of the night, I must have sleep walked over to my side of the bed. I certainly would have been unable to roll over considering the immovable object of a dog’s butt was between the two sides of the bed. Yep, my subconscious had relocated me. Something deep inside my brain knew that I should not be there. That was Charlene’s spot. Not mine.

Sure enough, it’s proof positive. There’s only one spot that’s right for me and that’s with my wife by my side (and of course the occasional furry dog butt in the middle, but that goes without saying).