Last night, while surrounded by darkness I sat bolt upright in bed. I threw my balled fists up to the 10 foot ceiling and cried out in frustration.
I'm afraid we bought the wrong bed.
The first large purchase the ear doctor and I made together a little over 2 years ago was our expensive, designer king sized bed. It was luscious with the pillow top and pretty gold embroidery. In the store it seemed to promise years of restful slumber. I had visions of the two of us swathed in white silk pajamas sleeping on angelic clouds.
My dreams have not been met and I'm getting really ticked that we spent such a bundle of our beautiful and fleeting wedding gift money.
As I sat up in bed the radio commercial for the sleep number bed flitted through the transoms of my mind. Oh, how glorious would it be to simply pump more air into this bed to get a firmer, more supportive base? How dreamy to be able to fiddle around every night until the perfect combination was met?
But that ideal will not be ours for years to come. How, dear friends, do I remedy this situation. My uber expensive, big, soft bed-of-my-dreams is TOO soft. My spine has turned into a noodle. HELP!