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International Blanket Thief

Yesterday morning as I got out of bed, I gave a little shiver. October was here and the mornings are getting chilly. I noticed my husband quickly grabbing the blankets and pulling them up to his chin. To add to the effect, he let out a huff of contentment. I paused, looking at him in puzzlement—usually I’m the one who’s always complaining of the cold.
“I’ve never seen you like this, all bundled up,” I observed only his eyes and forehead were visible under the quilt. “Why are you doing that?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Because I sleep with an international blanket thief!” he announced petulantly. “I was cold all night! You cocooned yourself in all the blankets!” he continued. “I had to go get my old Army poncho liner to cover up!”
I thought he was exaggerating, but sure enough, at the foot of the bed was the camouflage poncho liner.
How could I possibly be able to wrestle blankets away from him? I thought to myself as I brushed my teeth. He is at least twice my size.  Maybe I get super strength during my slumber, ripping the blankets from him with no mercy?  
Nope, that can’t be right!
I thought back to what he called me—an international blanket thief. I had to admit I liked his turn of phrase; it had a James Bond-ish flare to it.
Maybe that’s how I get the blankets—as my husband is drifting off to sleep, I spring into action. I clandestinely shift the blankets away from him. Ever so gingerly, I wrap myself up in them, enjoying their warmth throughout the night. (Mind you, I’m asleep during all this, so I’m just guessing here!)
 I feel bad for my husband, really I do. I don’t want him to freeze during this winter. Before Interpol comes after me, I figure we’ll need to invest in another quilt!

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