Fighting dirty, eh? Well, it won't work... he can have all the covers he wants, 'cause you won't wake up... and should he wake up lookin' for action, he knows enough to work around the pajamas.

Just get another blanket or two already.

I, too, am awaiting Nilbo's response. There are a few lines in there which raised an eyebrow (i.e. "I don't go down easily...") on MY end, so I can only imagine what's up Nils' sleeves.

Our solution: Tony and I each have our own blanket/comforter. Never a cold night!

i swear, when i read the last paragraph ("nudity") earlier this morning, i totally was going to comment that nilbo was going to have a field day with this post. seems like we're all anxiously awaiting his pontification on said nudity and the much-needed negotiations.

Well. Hardly any pressure ...

I have to say, first of all, that if Kelly's nudity is being held hostage, I can throw a couple of bucks into the pot. I think William is with me, I'm gonna guess Dave will kick in, and to be honest, half the women here already have their change purses out.

We'll pay the ransom. Although - as with any hostage situation - we're going to have to insist on proof of life, of course. A photo of her nudity alongside a copy of today's USA Today would do.

But her decision to wear lingerie from the Frederick's of Yellowknife Collection aside, the problem is a common enough one. In fact, science long ago came up with a standard for measuring the cooling impact of what is known as Blanket Theft Uncoverage. That is where they came up with the term BTUs.

On the face of it, Kelly's solution - withholding her nudity - would seem to make sense. Where it all breaks down, of course, is in the practical application of the threat.

First of all, it doesn't seem to me that Rob would object to giving up the covers in order to gain access to the nudity at, say, the beginning of the night. A no-brainer, for sure, and at the beginning of the night, we men are all about the no-brainers, because frankly, we only have enough blood for one head at a time anyway.

But let's assume covers have been surrendered, nudity has been accessed, questionable claims that "I don't go down easily" have been tested and discarded as patently false, and Nirvana has been sought and achieved by one and all (or at the very least by one, because hey, we have to work in the morning and really, is it my fault you're that inefficient? I mean, God, get there already, and no, you cannot thumbtack a picture of some washed-up actor to my forehead AGAIN).

Well, at that point, the threat to withhold nudity becomes moot. In fact, it is less than moot. It is irrelevant. Men - being the selfish creatures we are - will respond to a threat of reclaimed nudity with a murmurred "mmhmm, that's nice, sweetie". At that moment, the world is pretty much going our way. We're just wondering why you haven't turned into a pepperoni pizza, which seriously? Would be the BEST.

In fact, we're a little warm, so you can have the covers. No, seriously, take them. And honey, if that's how every night is going to be, you can have the covers whenever you want. I'll just take this tiny little corner of the covers right ... here. Yeah, don't worry about it. I won't take any more. No, seriously. You can fall asleep with every confidence that you won't wake up in a couple of hours with your ass hanging out in the crisp evening air. I would never do that.

Heh. Women are sooo gullible.

Of COURSE we're going to take the covers. We're cold. Do you not read or understand Darwin? It's right there, page 412 of his classic "On the Origin of Species", discussing the adaptation of finches in the Galapagos: "Where some species failed to survive the harsh winter evenings, others learned to create - or in some cases, abscond with - necessary shelter to ensure their survival."

So, hey, I'm sorry. You're fighting centuries of evolution. It's a jungle out there. You have to do what you have to do to survive.

And if that means stealing covers (unconsciously, of course. Heh. Women.), then that's what it means. And if it means dressing up in flannel with those attractive grey woolen work socks (ohh, QUEEN Victoria's Secret - nice ...) then by all means, dress up.

Bottom line: if the cats are against you, it's a sign that you might be too demanding.

And hey, flannel isn't exactly Alcatraz. We can still get to the goodies if that's what everybody wants.

Because your nudity may be held hostage. But we're still hoping the Stockholm Syndrome will kick in.

sorry, trying to kill the bold print...let's see if it worked.

Clearly you have some very brilliant, bedroom-cover savvy readers. : ) But I thought the flannel pjs idea was stellar. That would never work for me though, because I would wake up sweating and then surely be in grave danger of compromising my flannel-clad self.

And Kristine, nice work. : )

Well, you could always bunk up in seperate sleeping bags.

I love you.

There was something about this on tv once, that it led to divorce... The suggestion was to have your own blankets. Would that be a slippery slope into the depths of separate beds??

Like Bucky wastes her butter on bread.

Damn. The Turn and Tug (which I actually call the Tug and Tow) usually works for me. Huh. Rob is WAY stubborn, yo? Even in his sleep, the bugger! You hold that nudity hostage, girlfriend. Power to the Uncovered! (*chest thump to peace sign*)