How Many Pillows Are Enough?

By Greg Schwem | October 11th, 2024

And how many is too many?

A bed with lots of pillow, by Minpin. Suggesting a question, how many pillows are enough?

Many push-button issues can disrupt relationships, from how to hang toilet paper to how to load a dishwasher. Humorist Greg Schwem tackles one of them: how many pillows on a bed?

I am struggling to keep my eyes open as I write this column, having just completed an overnight stay in North Carolina, which included a night of restful sleep.

That’s correct; I slept great. The exhaustion occurred the following morning as I was preparing to leave the spare bedroom in my relatives’ home. Always striving to be the perfect houseguest, I made every attempt to leave the bed in its former condition. I pulled up the sheets, tucked the blanket’s corners under the mattress and made sure the spread was free of wrinkles.

Then came the pillows. All 10 of them. The one I slept on and nine more.

It was a queen-sized bed, so it made sense that two rested at the mattress’s head. Covered in gray pillowcases that matched the sheets, they awaited one, or two, occupants to close their eyes and comfortably drift off to dreamland.

Two more identical pillows were stacked on top of these, in case a higher sleeping position was preferred. Personally, I’ve always been a one pillow type of guy. Unless that pillow was manufactured by Mike Lindell. Then I’d rather rest my head on bare concrete.

The others, a mix of square, oval and skinny rectangular shapes, were covered in mismatched fabrics. An interior decorator would likely describe them as “throw pillows” and suggest they be “thrown” on top of the spread, accentuating its appearance.

I believe they should all be “thrown” away.

Seriously, how many pillows, of any variety, does one need on a bed? Beds are for sleeping, nothing more. I don’t care if the mattress is filled with foam, feathers or water; I should be able to collapse onto it without first eliminating everything on top of it.

I feel the same way about those bowlfuls of colorful bathroom soaps, which may as well contain a “Do Not Touch” label. Even if my hands were covered in tar, I would wipe them on white pants before touching these babies. No need to incur my host’s wrath.

In Charlotte, when I retired for the evening, I took each decorative pillow and haphazardly threw it on the floor. That was easy. The next morning, as I reassembled the bed, I had to stoop down and pick up each one individually. Not an easy task for a guy with an aching back.

Furthermore, I had to return each one to its rightful position. Which was … where, exactly?

Did the beige oval pillow go on top of the striped rectangular ones? Or beneath? Or between? I didn’t return home the night before until nearly 1 a.m., so I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the layout. Maybe I should have snapped a picture of the configuration the moment I entered the room. My back would still ache, but I’d leave knowing that, as a model tenant, my bed would be available for return trips. My relatives aren’t that anal, but I’ve stayed with some hosts who would probably need therapy sessions if their throw pillows were misplaced. Haven’t we all?

For the record, the number of pillows on a bed should be two. The number of soaps in a bathroom? One. Mismatched coffee mugs in your pantry? Four. Candles in a living room? Three. Are you purposely trying to burn down your house?

I am now back home, in my bedroom, completing this column. I need to go to sleep — on my one pillow — because I’m hosting a football watch party tomorrow.

Which one of my 47 Chicago Bears shirts should I wear?

Greg Schwem is a corporate stand-up comedian and author of two books: Text Me If You’re Breathing: Observations, Frustrations and Life Lessons From a Low-Tech Dad and the recently released The Road To Success Goes Through the Salad Bar: A Pile of BS From a Corporate Comedian, available at Amazon.com. Visit Greg on the web at www.gregschwem.com.