Security Blanket

I was lying in bed with my eyes shut.  Or maybe they were open, I don’t know, I suffer from such extreme night blindness that even in moderate darkness I am sometimes unable to tell if my eyes are open or closed.  Let that just sink in for moment.  A person, unable to tell if their eyes are opened or closed.  What is that shit?  I mean really.  I actually have to try and blink; if I can, then they were open.  If I can’t they are closed.  Honestly, once I safely tuck my iPhone under my pillow (fuck radiation) I am swimming in a void of darkness and silence (because I wear ear plugs, that is nothing to do with my eyes).  When I am feeling particularly existential I like to think that literally only myself and my bed exist and we are just floating in perpetual darkness…

Anyway, as I was saying, I was in bed with my eyes either open or closed (if I can’t tell, neither can you).  I was performing that peculiar style of martial arts known for its profundity at casting aside, and also re-cloaking, bedding in a single blow.  I was an incredibly shitty temperature.  Granted, I am usually dissatisfied with my personal temperature, but this time it was actually due to outside forces.  Under the blankets: ugh, too hot.  Out of the blankets: nice temperature, bit of a breeze even.  And that was the problem, I was out of the damn doona.

OK, I get that very few people (meaning no one, because really who are these freaks?) like, or are comfortable without the security of at least a sheet covering them while they sleep.  It’s not even that I am uncomfortable, it is more that I am hyper-aware that I don’t have my security cocoon of downy goodness covering me, then that causes this conversation to happen in my head:

“Hey, you know you don’t have your doona right?”

“Yes, I am aware, it’s hot as fuck tonight, If I put it on you’ll sweat like a bastard.”

“Yeah but, it’s weird, I don’t like it.  It’s all just so… open.”

“Coolness trumps openness.  Goodnight.”

*clears throat*

“What?”

“Monsters, burglars, rapists, aliens, zombies, the tax man, slender man, your boyfriends mother, YOUR mother, the North Korean government, people who say ‘totes’; they can all get you with out your doona on!!!!!!!”

This is what goes on in my/our head when I decide to cast aside the shackles of oppressive warmth.  In my mind my doona is like a suit of armor repelling all the worlds evil using only cotton and goose down. Yet logically I know this is simply not true.  No would-be burglar worth his or her salt is going to creep into a house, see someone tucked up in bed and think to themselves ‘well shit, I can’t very well take their playstation 4 and jewelry when they are just tucked up so nice like, bugger this for a game of soldiers, I’m going home to do the same thing’.

Despite my doona being a protective shield of super awesome protection at night, the same cannot be said for it during the day.  I can’t very well just get up in the morning, do the business of getting ready, then drape my doona around my shoulders like it’s some sort of padded cape then leave the house.  If anything the exact opposite of protection would be had, I would stand out like dogs bollocks. I’d be some freak walking down the street in a fucking doona, I’d probably be arrested for my own safety (just don’t take my fucking doona or so help me!). Also, if I went even further than draping it about my shoulder and went for the full on Sith Lord look I’d lose my vital peripheral vision and leave myself open for some ne’er-do-well to sidle up along side and shiv me.

So there I lay, flummoxed by one of the voices in my head clearing it’s throat when I see (or sense, still not actually sure if my eyes were open or closed) a bright flash illuminate my bedroom via my window.  I roll over covering myself with doona at the same time.  I can’t be bothered finding out what caused it.  Whatever it is, my doona will protect me.

 

Also, for those not in the know, doona = duvet.

How To Buy A Mattress

I love my bed, love it. I simply cannot clearly iterate into words my deep and almost profound love of this bed. It’s a warm hug at the end of a day; it’s the suggestive come hither look of a lover in the morning; it’s my movie theater; my couch; my dining room; my therapist; my best friend; my bed.

My bed and I have a bond that goes way back to when I was merely a twinkle in my daddies eye. Yes, that’s right ladies and gentlemen, I was conceived on this bed. How many of you can lay claim to that very dubious honor? To think I could so easily been the wet patch in the middle of this bed, ickiness aside, that really make you think.

This was my first ‘big girl’ bed. And boy was it big for a small-for-my age 3 year old. I don’t really recall those early days with my bed, but I’m fairly certain I was the only kid in kinder with a queen size bed.

Given that our mutual history extends back such a way you’d be right to assume that my bed is very old. Roughly 28 years to be imprecise. That’s old. I read somewhere that you should replace your mattress every ten years or so. Probably a mattress company rouse (I’m looking at you Sealy), but still 3 decades is probably pushing envelope in terms of mattress acceptability. Which basically means its time to buy a new bed.

A bed is a big purchase, it might be one of the most expensive pieces of furniture you own (if indeed a bed is considered furniture). With the prospect of putting my old bed out to pasture it got me thinking of how I’d tackle turning my thought of ‘hey, time to buy a new bed’, into the materialization of said bed in my bedroom. In order to get from concept to project complete with minimal tears I plan to follow this strategy…

  1. Get to bed store early.  As in when it opens.  This is not a drill, we aren’t browsing, we are buying.
  2. Bring pillow for bed testing.  Yes, I will look foolish, but if any of these bed salespeople are worth their salt they will stick to us like glue.  Nothing says ‘I am serious about buying a bed’ more than a customer who shows up with a pillow under their arm.
  3. Wear slip on shoes.  After a lifetime of being told to take my feet off the furniture I simply cannot turn off that inner chastising – even if there is that plastic strip over the end of the bed.  As in all past cases of in public shoe removal – wear shoes you are prepared to have stolen. (Personally, I have never had my shoes stolen, I just have a healthy fear that it will happen someday).
  4. Don’t just bounce a few times on the edge of the bed to test – lie down, and not like some corpse, stiff as a board on your back either.  I’m talking, fetal position, with your face slightly smooshed into the pillow – just like you do at home.  Also, lie there for a decent amount of time.  Its not a race, you’re buying a bed – something you could potentially have for the next 30 years.  Although that’s unlikely with how things are made these days.
  5. You have a smart phone – use it.  When you find a bed you like, get the make and model and Google the bejesus out of it for a better deal.  And when you find said better deal – negotiate.  Your unemployed goddammit – you have all the time in the world to stand there haggling.  Until you have the bed salesperson crying in the corner about how he needs the commission to feed is family your job is not done.
  6. And finally, for the love of all that is sacred make sure they remove the existing bed – preferably for free.  You will never regret having this done for you.

Farewell old friend, you served me well, but it’s time to move on.  I am sorry for kitting you out in hideous bed linen all these years.