Friday, 2 September 2011
Telling bedtime stories
Sort of. Neither of us have ever actually slept very well. My husband's arms seem to fly around like a windmill's sails while he sleeps and several times I have been woken as I have been hit in the face by one of them and so most of the time I would end up on the edge of the bed (meanly stealing most of the covers to make up for my lack of space). It was only a year ago as we wondered why we slept so much better when we were away from home that we started also pondering the possibility of a bigger bed. And so, it was seven years after Habitat had delivered our bed to us that we made the discovery that they'd delivered the wrong bed. Rather than the double that we'd requested we had been given a king-sized bed...which explained why our mattress didn't fit. We were quite delighted to find that we were only a new mattress away from a better night's sleep, rather than an entire bed. And even though our old mattress had come to feel very much 'ours', with age and distance from our university years, I also felt increasingly disturbed that I'd been so delighted by a second-hand mattress stored in an alley next to a shop and that we were still sleeping on it thirteen years later.
Yesterday, our first ever brand new mattress was delivered. The moment the delivery men left the house the children and I wasted no time in leaping on it before we'd even put any bed linen on it. Do you know the odd thing though? Every time one of our old make-shift pieces of furniture is dispensed with to be replaced by something more proper (and more comfortable) I feel like I'm saying goodbye to a bit of our rather naive and funny younger selves and somehow ironing out the creases that might be what makes our shared household experience of being us, 'us'. Do you ever feel like that?
Posted by Florence (Flossie Teacakes)