Now, getting this bed in the first place was a big production. Shopping for the bed took several days, test snoozing community beds at several showrooms around Reno. Throw in the occasional argument, a few pushy salesmen, and a very tired service dog and it made for one very miserable weekend.
Fast forward to the weekend before delivery, when Todd still hadn't done anything about the trail of books and packages he had that made a
What do I get for my effort? No thanks, and a whole lot of grief yesterday. When I got home, the bed was there all right. And so was a brand new trail of crap from the - yes - entranceway, up the stairs, and ending in the bedroom.
Todd blames the deliverymen. He said they pushed crap out of the way, through books on the floor, etc, so they could have enough room to put the bed together. Yes, they might have, but you'd THINK he'd have the good grace to straighten it all up.
But he didn't.
Why not? "Because I was tired from dealing with the deliverymen."
Oh yes, I'm sure that was taxing. Not, certainly NOT as taxing as my WHOLE WEEKEND SPENT PUTTING HIS CRAP AWAY. Okay, so some of the stuff was mine...still...
After seeing the trail of mess, I needed a drink. I made the mistake of going into the kitchen, where I was confronted with yet another one of my pet peeves: a pile of dirty dishes, on the floor, in the sink, on the counter. The dishwasher light was off, so I opened it up, and what did I see? A whole dishwasher full of CLEAN dishes. This is my absolute pet peeve: when hunky takes out one or two clean items from the dishwasher, leaving the rest of it for me to put away.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I just started throwing things around the house. Yes, very mature, I know, but also somewhat therapeutic.
I never did get my drink. Instead, I got into an argument with Todd, and then I decided to throw some more things, just for fun.
We finally made up before bed, so I crawled into the nice, new $8,000 bed to sleep like the rich do.
I don't think I slept like the rich. No, I woke up several times because my arm was asleep, and several more times because my hip hurt. I think my chiropractor might be right: a Temper-Pedic bed might just not be the bed for me.
But for $8,000, you can bet that's where I'll be sleeping for the next ten years (or until hunky kicks me out, whichever comes first.)