My Husband And I Sleep In A Coffin

Okay, so, grab your coffee (or wine, no judgment here!), because I'm about to tell you something that might make you spit it out. My husband, Mark, and I? We sleep in a coffin. Yeah, you read that right. A coffin. I know, I know, it sounds like something straight out of a gothic novel, doesn't it?

It all started with a… let’s just call it a very specific aesthetic. Mark has always been fascinated by the macabre. Think Edgar Allan Poe, not exactly sunshine and rainbows. He collects antique medical equipment (don’t ask!), loves old cemeteries, and generally embraces anything a little… spooky. Me? I’m more of a rom-com kind of gal, but hey, opposites attract, right?

So, for years, Mark has been dropping hints. “Wouldn’t it be cool if…” followed by increasingly outlandish ideas, each more morbid than the last. A skull-shaped ice bucket? Sure, why not. A taxidermied raven perched on the bookshelf? Okay, pushing it, but fine. But a coffin? That was a hard no from me. At first.

Fast forward a few years, and we were redecorating our bedroom. The old bed was… well, old. And uncomfortable. We were tossing around ideas, and Mark, with that twinkle in his eye, brought up the coffin again. He'd found a craftsman who made bespoke coffins (yes, apparently that’s a thing), and… well, he wore me down. What can I say? He’s persuasive!

Plus, he had a point. Think about it: a coffin is basically just a really fancy, enclosed bed. It’s handmade, sturdy, and surprisingly… cozy. And, hear me out, it solves the blanket-hogging problem! No more midnight tug-of-wars! (Seriously, that was a big selling point for me.)

So, we took the plunge. We ordered a custom-made coffin – oak wood, velvet lining (because comfort!), and even had it slightly oversized. You know, for extra legroom. After all, we’re not planning on being buried in it anytime soon!

Getting it into the house was… an experience. Let’s just say our neighbors gave us some interesting looks. And the delivery guys? They were definitely whispering about us. But once it was in the bedroom, it actually looked… good? Like, surprisingly stylish. Who knew a coffin could be chic?

So, what's it like sleeping in a coffin?

Honestly? Pretty great! It's incredibly comfortable. Like being hugged by a giant, wooden… well, coffin. It’s dark, quiet, and surprisingly peaceful. I sleep like a baby. And Mark? He's in heaven (or, you know, whatever the opposite of heaven is that he prefers!).

Do we get weird looks when people visit? Absolutely! Our friends all have opinions, ranging from "That's so cool!" to "Are you guys okay?". Our parents? Let's just say they don't visit the bedroom very often. But hey, it’s our life, and we’re happy. Besides, who are they to judge our sleep preferences?

The funny thing is, it's become… normal. Like, ridiculously normal. We watch Netflix in our coffin-bed. We read books in our coffin-bed. We even eat snacks in our coffin-bed (don’t tell Mark, he hates crumbs in the velvet!). It's just… our bed. A slightly unusual, undeniably macabre, but ultimately very comfortable bed.

Would I recommend everyone sleep in a coffin? Probably not. It’s definitely not for the faint of heart (or those with claustrophobia!). But if you’re looking for a unique sleeping experience, and you’re not afraid to embrace your inner goth, then hey, why not give it a try?

So there you have it. The story of how my husband and I ended up sleeping in a coffin. A decision that started with a quirky obsession, and ended with the best sleep of our lives. Go figure!

And hey, if you ever want to come over for a sleepover… just kidding! (Unless…?) 😉