the gift of comfortability.

Last night as we were tucking ourselves into bed, careful not to wake the sleeping baby in the bed (the sleeping baby who almost always manages to wake up no matter how quiet we are) my husband began lamenting at the state of my comforter.  "It's all in a big lump, becca! (he whispered intensely at me)  I always keep track of my corners.  Yours is in a big ball!  I have no idea how you sleep like that!"  (We don't share blankets because I share mine with Saf, and it just works better that way.  Chris barely likes to share a bed.)

And in that moment, I realized.  I have the gift of comfortability.

Chris laughs because I'm often sitting on things that he's looking for, completely without noticing.  I've slept as a single person with piles of clothes at the end of my bed.  I'm as quick to sit on a floor as I am on a couch.  I really enjoy other cultures, mud huts, crowded buses.  I like meeting new people and even secretly enjoy awkward situations.  I can sleep anywhere.  Really.  Even in cardigans (with pokey buttons, Chris adds from the couch).

And now, I feel vindicated.  I have a gift.  The gift of comfortability.  

Kuala Lumpur airport.