Let me ask you a question. Why is it than when you're dating, you can spend hours watching movies on a teeny, tiny couch, spooning for hours on a space that's not even comfortable enough for one person, let alone two? (Yes, I said spooning. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.) And, why is it that once you're married, your queen size bed, which is WAY bigger, WAY more comfortable and actually made for sleeping, suddenly becomes WAY too small? Is it just me? I get so claustrophobic, and when I'm ready to shut my eyes and go to sleep, I mean business--as in you better not cross "the line" business. You know, the imaginary line that divides the middle of the bed, kind of like the line in the backseat of the car that divides you and your sibling? Yes, I'm that grown up. It gets worse, though, because, you see, we never agree on where "the line" is. Jeremy thinks the line is determined by mass, meaning he would get more of the bed, two thirds according to him. I, of course, disagree. Solution? We're either gonna have to go Lucy and Ricky style, or we're gonna have to get a king. And while you all know how much I love a room with two twin beds, well, that's just not right. King it is.