Purchase

We bought a new bed. It was one of those things that we absolutely needed, but that neither of us actually wanted to cough up the cash for. It was all I could do to get Trevor to accompany me to a bed store, even though he was complaining loudest about a sore back.

The bed which so desperately needed to be replaced, I have had since I was about twenty years old. It has been through the wars, practically. Ten years ago we bought one of those idiosyncratic old houses that has had renovation upon renovation. The bed, even though it was only a queen size, was too big, by millimetres, to fit up the stairs. We had to saw the boxspring down the middle and fold it to make it fit. For a long time we slept with it flat on the floor for support, but when we moved into the current house, it seemed like it was time for proper, grown-up furniture, including a headboard. So we screwed a piece of plywood to the bottom of the boxspring so we could sleep without sinking into a giant void in the middle. It has served us well for a few more years, but lately, both of us have been waking up with inexplicable aches and pains, which I, for one, refuse to attribute to aging.

So we went bed shopping. We had an entertaining salesman, who gave us the facts and answered our questions and steadfastly refused to make lewd bed jokes, despite the plethora of obvious material at his fingertips. He was amused when Trevor continuallly deferred to me on the finer points of bed preference. The salesman, Randy I think his name was, kept saying, “You are a smart man – a happy wife is a happy life”. I liked him. He was a wise man. I encouraged Trevor to take note.

So we eventually chose a space foam bed, guaranteed to solve all my sleep problems, which will, in due course, solve all my problems. They promised to deliver it Monday and take away the old one. They say they donate the old ones to charity. They also promise that we can exchange it within 60 days if we don’t love it. Ewww, is all I can say. On both promises.

In the end, though, I tried out quite a few beds (well not tried tried, but laid down for a few seconds), and really, for the most part, beds is beds (sorry Randy). Of course, the one which was noticeably superior was actually twice the price. Superiority notwithstanding, it was tough to say it was twice as good as any other, so we chose the more cost-effective alternative. We weren’t tempted by the king sized bed (which would entail new headboard, sheets, pillows, etc). We figure we’re still newlywed enough to snuggle a bit. And now we’re committed to snuggle at least as long as the warranty (ten years).

So the bed was delivered on the appointed day and I washed all the good sheets and made it up. I was prepared for a rough night, because the first night on a strange bed is never very restful (think of every hotel you have ever stayed in). But I was pleasantly surprised. It was no worse than the usual night on the old bed. It was firmer, for sure, and less bouncy, to the chagrin of the children. But it held my body heat, so it felt warmer and cozier, and this space foam stuff is easier on pressure-prone areas, so I haven’t been waking up with a numb and tingly arm, as I used to do.

The second night was even better. I slept through until 5:22 am, which never happens. Since then, I have found myself fantasizing about my bed during the day (No lewd jokes here either, please. Those stories are for the other blog). I’ll be at work and I’ll start thinking how nice it would be to be in my bed with my big pillow and my eyes closed, not responsible for anything for a while. I think it’s safe to say my new bed is my favourite place to be. I can’t see needing to take advantage of the 60 day exchange policy. In just a few short nights, I have come to love this bed as much as I loved the old one. And that was a lot. Progress, I tell you. It was time to move on.

Anyway, it is almost time for me to head on up to that cozy bed. It has been a relatively leisurely day, compared to the rest of the week, and I think I would like to end it by snuggling under my covers with a book. Unfortunately for the blog, the bed may be more therapeutic than the the rambling. Maybe I shouldn’t have sold my laptop… goodnight.

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About therapeuticrambling

I am a wife, a mom, a nurse, a writer. I enjoy laughing.
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