Pillow Talk

I strive to be a good host.

Our guest room contains a comfortable Queen bed, its soft, silky sheets adorned in tiny yellow, delicate daisies. A satin eye mask is within reach to ward off harsh morning rays which occasionally assault, come sunrise. A wee book I purchased some years ago at the New York Public Library gift shop, “The Language of Flowers” lies upon the night table for reading pleasure and a small Tiffany lamp casts a golden light which both warms and soothes the soul. Three Hershey chocolate kisses are strategically positioned upon the pillow, a small offering for the guest who like myself, might just happen to share a chocolate addiction.

So you can imagine my surprise and frankly, shock, when a recent overnight guest, a co-worker and dear friend of several years, looked me squarely in the eyes the morning after she had just stayed over (in said guest room) and candidly remarked, “why I didn’t get a wink of sleep! It was the pillows. They were just awful.”

I stood before her with a frozen smile, my thoughts racing. My mind conjured a myriad of responses, which for the sake of our friendship, remained unsaid. I calmly replied, “I wish you would have told me, Lisa. I have an array of other pillows I could have offered you.” She responded something about not wanting to bother me, then continued the tirade.

“Why I felt like Goldilocks, from that childhood fairy tale, wherein she could never quite find the right bed, but for me, it was the pillows. One was too hard, the other too soft and the last well, just not right…”

And then, I did what any other good host might do. I apologized for her discomfort promising next time, I would have a better quality of pillow to assure a more pleasant night’s slumber. She thanked me. Later that morning, as I watched her depart, sleepily making her way down our front path to her car, I thoughtfully pondered the pillows and her critique.

There were three I had placed on her bed, the first a firm Tempur-Pedic the second, medium-firm with down feathers and the third, a very soft pillow wherein your head almost sunk straight through to the mattress; I personally loved the very soft one.

The next day, I visited the guest room to further examine the alleged offending pillows. My friend had unleashed the most fury on one pillow, claiming it contained “little beads” that hurt her face which indeed, appeared slightly splotchy the following morning, giving the expression “beauty sleep,” new meaning. I picked it up. Its interior did feel strikingly similar to small nodules or pebbles. Moving on to pillow two, the extra firm Tempur-Pedic, which ironically cost a fortune,I found it not much better than the former, being not only heavy in heft, but as hard as a rock. The last one I examined, the medium down, was lovely but as I lay down upon it, several of the duck feathers poked out ominously in random places, like sharp talons.

My heart sank in despair as I came to a grim realization…

My friend was right. The pillows were a disaster.

I vowed to buy new ones before hosting future guests, but alas, my promise was short lived. Tossing and turning more than usual last night, my husband suddenly sprang up like a frustrated Jack-in-the Box, his pillow gripped tightly in his arms. Tossing the offending villain to the floor, quite forcefully, his words stung amid the darkness of our bedroom.

“You gave me the Lisa pillow!”