Sleep and Tasha don’t always get along. We have a cautious relationship at best. Many a time, I climb into bed at a timely hour and stare at the white ceiling until 1 or 2 in the morning. Despite the fact I do well in school, I sometimes frankly forget how to fall asleep. The rest of my family has no trouble drifting off to dreamland: Mom falls asleep reading, Dad goes to bed at 9:30 p.m. and Josie naps a couple hours on the “magic couch” every weekend. I, however, cannot relax enough to sleep at night let alone to take a nap.

Because of my random bouts of insomnia, I have devised the “perfect” sleeping method. With everything in place, I can fall asleep… usually. Last week, my sleeping method crashed and burned.

I had just driven home from school and was perched in the breakfast area, working on my homework. The school day was over, I was almost through with my English paper, and I was in a good mood. With trepidation, Mom trudged to the table.

“I was making your bed and decided to wash your pillow,” she said. I immediately knew what had happened. Unaware of the effects of water mixed with hot air when a pillow is placed in a dryer, Mom had done exactly that.

Looking back, I may have overreacted a little bit. But my pillow is essential to my falling asleep. It literally took years to get the right flatness and softness of my pillow.

“MOM!” I shrieked. “How could you!?” I felt slighted, like she had ripped pages out my books or shredded the clothes in my closet.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what would happen!”

How did she not know that when placed in a dryer, pillows grow and expand to twice or triple the original size? The fact that people don’t wash their pillows with the bedding shows something must happen. Why else would pillow cases exist?

After a couple of minutes of deep breathing and a few accusatory stares, my feet carried me to my bedroom. Upon the green comforter, the pillow lay innocently, like a ginormous white, fluffy marshmallow. This marshmallow wasn’t fit for eating and definitely not for sleeping. My knees hit the furry rug and I sank my head into the pillow. In my opinion, heads should not “sink” into pillows but rest lightly on top. Also, my neck hovered uncomfortably above the bed. My pillow was ruined.

I’m sure I’ll get over it. I found a replacement pillow and retired my old one. But honestly, it felt a little like I lost a friend. My pillow has traveled with me on countless Disney trips, road trips and even flown to London. It stuck with me through my awkward tween years and has been around for as long as I can remember. Now, it will rest on my bed as a decorative pillow, useless and horrifically fluffy. Pillow, my head and neck will miss you. Rest in peace.