Simple, really. Get knocked up, start snoring like a lumberjack and before you know it, the poor husband is tenting it on the couch because there is no chance he’ll catch even so much as a single “Z” anywhere near you.
Benefits: bed is mine. Mine. ALLLL mine. I also score some bonus pillows that can be added to the current pillow-fort I construct on a nightly basis. Bonus bonus: if a little fart comes along too, there is nobody there to notice that either. Except the dog, who flashes a concerned facial expression for a moment and then goes right back to his own version of snoring.
But I do end up missing him a little bit, especially on cold nights when I have nowhere to stick my feet. Plus I get ever so slightly guilt-ridden having snored him right out of the room, but at the same I can’t help it. He’s gotten almost 9 snore-free years out of me, and as they say, payback is a bitch. I also have a feeling once the little one is out, it will be my sleep more than his that gets interrupted. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the hell out of both sides of the bed, AND the middle.