Today the bed, tomorrow the world

I am no longer in control of my own bed. There used to be rules. I had the left-hand side, the boys had the foot, and “She” had the right-hand pillow. But then one night slowly and irreversibly the rules started to change. Little Miss Hitler was suddenly moving towards the gap between the pillows, an area known as “The Sudetenland”. I vainly tried to push her back but she was unstoppable. The gap was annexed. I appeased her by letting her stay there, but I knew it was only a matter of time. I kept a firm grip on my pillow (“Poland”).

Two weeks ago, the inevitable assault. She had her big green eyes on Poland. She undertook a commando assault under cover of darkness. I rolled over in the night and (miaouuu!) flattened her. She beat a hasty retreat. But apparently the scent marking was done, the ground work complete. One night soon after she goose-stepped over and gave me the look, the look that says: “It’s 1 September 1939 and you’re in my spot”.

So now Little Miss Hitler contentedly occupies Poland and I am left in some no man’s land. I’m thinking of applying for refugee status at the foot of the bed (“Switzerland”).

Latest: I thought she had retreated. I got the left side last night. Until I woke up this morning in the middle, and Miss H was firmly established on the left. Logically she should stay on the far right, but I guess in the long run ideologies come full circle.