Fluff Piece

From deep in the heap of pillows that Mark has stacked at the head of the bed, I hear the muffled breathing of little Sasha. After some digging, I find her head and try to extract her. Mark rolls over, awakened by my excavations.
"Wha you doon?"
"Trying to keep the dog from suffocating. Go back to sleep."
Not that I really had to tell him, he's snoring again before I can get Sasha out from under the pillows.

Why the hell Mark needs six pillows on the bed for sleeping is a mystery to me. Not only does he have those six, but he has a couple of 'decorative' pillows that I have managed to toss on the floor. If Mark had his way I'd be sleeping across the foot of the bed while he and Sasha draped themselves over the mountain of fluff at the head of the bed. And it's not just the bed that Mark stacks with pillows, he also has throw pillows for the sofa taking up more valuable space. Our sofa seats three comfortably, four in a pinch, but you'd never know it. With all the pillows and dogs on it, skinny ass Mark is the only one who fits.

I bring all this up because this afternoon Mark came traipsing through the house with some gigantic bags from the Home Goods store.
"What's in the bags?"
"Nothing."
"Awful large nothings."
"It's just a couple of pillows."
"But you have plenty of pillows."
"I know, and now I have more."