WARNING: This week's column deals with subjects of an adult nature and is intended for mature audiences only.

 Is there any better way to get the attention of an underage reader? I don't think so.

Anyway, now that the kids are on board...

My wife - The Lovely Mrs. Taylor - is talking about making some changes in our marriage, and it's got me nervous. After years of mostly-blissful togetherness, she informed me last night she wants to experiment ... in the bedroom.

It seems she wants us to try - brace yourself - sleeping on different sides of the bed. Yes, yes, I know; it's shocking. I don't know what put the idea into her head, but there it is.

She doesn't want to do it all the time, at least not at first; just once, and not, mercifully, in our own bed. Early next month we're visiting my daughter and her husband in Detroit and we'll be staying at a hotel. It is there that Mrs. Taylor plans to put this "experiment" into action.

And like I said, it's got me nervous.

Since the first time Mrs. T and I shared a bed (details? none of your business!) I've slept on the left side. Originally, this was because the right side of the bed was nearer the door, and Jimmy, my stepson, was still a toddler who required frequent mommy attention in the middle of the night.

By the time Mrs. T and I moved into our first "our" house, the habit of my sleeping on the left had been firmly established. James was older, so there was no longer a definite reason for this, per se, it was just ... tradition. (Cue "Fiddler on the Roof" music.)

Then a few years ago, we went shopping for a new bed. Now, I hate the fact I have to sleep at all. As far as I'm concerned it's a huge waste of time and I resent giving up a third of my life to unconsciousness. But if I must do it, I intend to do it well.

We shopped all day for that bed. I tried dozens of different mattresses. When I say tried, I mean tried. Every mattress that seemed like even a remote possibility received several minutes of horizontal experimentation, both with and without pillows.

After thoroughly frustrating several salespersons at three different stores, I made my decision: the EZ-Snooze Marshmallow Posture Perfect 2000*. The EZ-Snooze Marshmallow Posture Perfect 2000 was, well, perfect. Not too hard, not too soft; it was one of those pillow-top affairs that cradle your body more perfectly than a nest cradles a clutch of robin's eggs.

It was also the single most expensive piece of furniture I had ever considered purchasing. When combined with the price of a headboard, footboard, frame and box spring, the total cost amounted to just slightly more than the annual gross national product of Switzerland. I've purchased cars for less.

It was worth it. That night, laying there (or lying, I can never remember which and don't really care) it was pure heaven.

In the years since, I've taken very good care of that EZ-Snooze Marshmallow Posture Perfect 2000. We turn it every couple of months, rotate it from end to end and side to side; we do everything the instruction manual says we should do. And after all this time, it's still as comfortable as the day the delivery people dropped it off.

At least I think it is. The Lovely Mrs. Taylor, however, has of late begun voicing complaints about the mattress, claiming it's not quite as cozy as it once was. Personally, I don't know what she's talking about. It feels fine to me. Better than fine, in fact. To me, that EZ-Snooze Marshmallow Posture Perfect 2000 feels great.

The problem first surfaced a week ago or so. I came home late from a long, boring meeting, and Mrs. T was curled up, snoring in a ladylike (for a lady water buffalo) fashion, on my side of the bed! At this point, I was faced with a difficult choice: be a selfish weenie and wake her, or be a nice guy and just sleep on her side of the bed.

I opted for selfish weenie.

She grumbled and groaned, but waggled three feet to the south, freeing up my side, which was now pre-warmed and even cozier than usual.

Next morning I asked her about it.

"Your side of the bed is softer," she said.

"It is not," I said.

"It is," she said.

I've had this sort of discussion with Mrs. T before and knew enough to drop it. She, however, had other ideas.

"If both sides are the same, why don't you sleep on my side?" she said.

"Because that's your side," I said, stating what I felt to be the obvious.

But with our pending trip to Detroit, Mrs. T seems determined to move ahead with this "experiment" of hers. The idea being, I suppose, that if we're in a different bed in a different the move will be easier for me.

It won't.

And if it is, what then? Do I relinquish the left side of the bed at home as well? Do I change my side of the table in the breakfast nook? For seven years, I've been looking at the Grandma Moses painting of "Harvest Time." Will I now have to look at the painting of "Mother's Day" that hangs on the wall, which until now has been behind me? Where will it end?

How long till I'm putting my pants on backwards and parting my hair on the right? Chaos! Anarchy! Pandemonium! It's only a matter of time.

Men, myself included, are poor, dumb creatures of habit. We don't like change. We don't like experiments. And we don't like the right side of the bed!

* Name made up since I don't really remember it exactly and even if I did I wouldn't want to give a free plug to a company that charges this much for a mattress.

Do you have a comment, suggestion or recommendation for sleeping aids for Mike Taylor? Send it to: mtaylor@midmich.net.