Scatter cushions?

I may have written about various differences of opinion between Mrs Ed and I before, but there is one topic that constantly confounds this obviously microscopic brain of mine.  
“What!” you declare in surprised disbelief, “Are you actually admitting that you are not the super-intelligent creature you normally profess to be?”

No I'm not saying that at all.  I'm inferring that my brain is small.  Like an intricate, highly programmed, silicone chip.  As opposed to LARGE , like a big, fluffy pillow, or a scatter cushion…..

Talking of which… Why?  Yes, WHY?

Why do we need  huge piles of extra big fluffy pillows … or scatter cushions….  on our beds?  REALLY?

Ok  the females amongst you (yes, be careful what you say, they are everywhere!) will undoubtedly give what they deem to be the obvious answer: To make it look nice.  To make our bedroom pleasing to the eye,  so that it appears as similar as possible to the photographs in the 'Housekeepers' Weekly' or the 'Husband Torturer's Digest' .  But that leads me to my next question.  For whom?

Who actually benefits from the apparent style and beauty of these meaningless, soft furnishings?

Let me give you a bit of background here, just so you don't think that I am as much of a raving lunatic as Mrs Ed has posted on  facebook  (I think it's linked to the Bricklayers' Guild  page). 

Every night she and I go to bed  normally at quite different times, because I am in the habit of concentrating so intensely on the television that my eyes close, so I miss her mad dash upstairs. 

Then of course I lose.  Why?

Because “It is written”, in Rules Of The House volume something or other, chapter thingy, “That The First One to Bed should never, EVER make any attempt to turn off a single light in the house, or lock a door, or close the fridge, or any windows, or turn the oven off, or bring the car into the driveway, or put the dog out (even if it is her dog). Nay by order of all that is important, The First One to Bed MUST avoid doing ANYTHING except getting into said bed.”  The resultant number of duties left for me to perform thus sets my bed time back by ¾ of a day or so, until I finally plod exhausted up the stairs… to go to bed? 

Nay, to recieve The Instruction List.
    
The Instruction List?  Yes, you know The Instruction List don't you? C'mon all you brave men, give me a knowing nod, an appreciative whistle, or if you aren't brave enough, a slight wink of confirmation will suffice. As you all know The Instruction List is what the First One to Bed blesses the Runner Up with, when he reaches the Halfway To The Bedroom mark. 

It is a collection of questions and requests-for-goods which surely sews delight in the fabric of every 'second to bed' person's brain, especially if he has perhaps had a little snooze on the couch to cloud his thoughts somewhat.  Of course The Instruction List may only be issued once the rest of the house is totally in darkness, and locked up as tight as a fish's bottom at twenty thousand fathoms:- This makes carrying out The Instruction List far more challenging, and entertaining, depending on what side of the bedroom door you are on.

For those who are still unsure, here is a typical sample of how The Instruction List is issued … (I have put the 'Second to bed' responses in italics so that you do not get mixed up)

1. “Have you put the dog out?”
“Yes,”“Did you check her leg, if there is anything wrong with it?”
“No,” “Well will you go and find her in the garden and have a look? She was limping earlier.  She'll be doing her business down by the compost heap.” etc etc

2. “Oh please won't you bring up my glasses?”
“Where are they?” “Under the magazine on the table,”
“Ouch! No they're not” “Try on top of the fridge,”
“Einah! No, not there either,” “Oh, look on the verandah then,”
“No, (Darn! I just stepped in the dog's bowl) not here!” “In the car?”
“Uh…OWWW!!! WHO LEAVES A HAIRBRUSH ON THE CARPET… no, not in the car…”  “Oh, actually, don't worry, they're right here next to my bed.”

3. “Please will you bring up the passports, they are in the safe, under the trapdoor, across the bridge, through the fiery hoops, past the bone-crunching ogre, just to the left of the horde of blood-thirsty Somalian Pirates.  I just want to double check that they are still valid in case we win the lotto tomorrow.”

4.  “Won't you quickly craft an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower out of Mohair goat droppings, before you come to bed ? I think it will look nice on the dressing table.” etc etc

And on an on it goes. 

Then finally, once The Instruction List has been completed, and all the blood mopped up, I get into bed.  I see, of course, that the twelve dozen scatter cushions and the three thousand extra fluffy pillows that our household has somehow accumulated over the years, are stacked in the corner of the room.  Because there would be no room in the bed otherwise. 

So once again I ask. Who are they for?

Visitors? Absolutely not.  No way.  I once had the misfortune of showing visitors our bedroom back in 2001
“And here's our bedroom,” I said to the nice couple who had popped in to fetch their child after a 'play afternoon' with our ankle-biters (They were new in town)
 “Look at our lovely scatter cushions and the leaning tower of fluffy pillows.” I encouraged (it seemed the right thing to do).  That would have been the end of it, if I hadn't slipped up and mentioned it to Mrs ED later that night, when she returned from her Sumo wrestling classes.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” she hissed
“Er… that the Smiths quite liked our house, and said our bedroom was nice and sunny ……” “HOW CAN YOU SHOW PEOPLE OUR BEDROOM?  NEVER, EVER SHOW PEOPLE OUR BEDROOM, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? WHAT KIND OF A MORON SHOWS PEOPLE HIS BEDROOM?  HOW EMBARASSING! THOSE PEOPLE SAW OUR BEDROOM! MY PYJAMAS! THE WASH BASKET!  I DON'T BELIEVE IT!”
I have cut the dialogue short, somewhat, but you understand that it continued along those same lines for the next three months or so, and is still raised at her book club, or when she's standing with colleagues around the cauldron, or when I happen to be in an argument-winning position, say once every 18 months or so….

So…. the scatter cushions and countless extra fluffy cushions are not for the comfort of anyone lying on the bed, nor for the benefit of visitors….  Every night they are removed from the bed and stacked.  Every morning they are replaced in their proud position back on the bed, just whilst the home is entirely devoid of human life, of course.

So what are they for?  My microchip brain calculates that one or two pillows each is an eloquent sufficiency.  And that, apart from being a handy little mind prop should one be lying in bed quietly envisaging the smothering of one's spouse, a ceiling-high stack of scatter cushions is of no use to man or beast.

Furthermore, they are totally obscuring the extremely useful, life size poster of Katie Meluah that I bought the family last Christmas!

 So, let me conclude with a call to action of all men suffering Scatter Cushion Fatigue! Come on guys - be brave! Out the window they go - On my count:  One… two… three........