Saturday, January 09, 2010
I LOVE my new BED!
Can't say it enough--thank. you. LORD! for this new mattress. Thank you, PAUL, for splurging on it. Thank you, Select Comfort, for designing these air chambers that adjust to his-and-her comfort levels. Thank you, UPS man, for not laughing out loud when you saw me rush to the front porch in my purple pj's when I saw your Big Brown truck coming down the street. Like I used to sing in the "Music Man," "oh ho the Wells Fargo wagon is a-coming now, oh please let it be for me." I don't care if a Wells Fargo wagon, a UPS truck , or a Canadian goose brought it, it's here and it's WONderful.
The bed came in four boxes and "we" (you know who) assembled it per diagrams that were actually NOT written in Japanese, for a change. Paul and I worked together ('twas an 80:20 ratio, respectively) to remove the old mattress and make it Sarah's if she wants it. Then we set up the new one ( which had many "snap together" --more like "bash together"--parts. Let's just say, after lots of grunting and heaving, Paul wondered if someone turned up the thermostat. I should've said yes, but in truth I just told him he was working up a good sweat. You know, when you're just standing there by your hot man, you gotta say something encouraging. ) Then he waited for the two sides of the bed to inflate while I did my Bible study. Oh, that looks so bad on paper. But I asked him, and he said, "Sure, go. I don't need you." That also looks worse on paper than it sounded in real life.
(This, by the way, is not a picture of our bed, but the colors of everything in the room are similar.)
Anyhow, I pulled out my favorite cream-colored, Egyptian cotton sheets that I had washed just for the occasion. I ran my comforter and shams through the dryer with Dryel, fluffed up the pillows, turned on the heating blanket to 3, took a hot bath (needed one after all that vigorous cheerleading and Bible study ). No, seriously, if you had seen what "under the bed" had revealed when removing the old mattress, you would've wanted a week-long libation yourself.
And then, after drying my hair and putting on clean pj's, in I crawled, hugged the hubs and thanked him (he was half-asleep but murmured something like "yeh, yeh, you have your own good side now, so scoot over") and that was that. I lay down and pumped my side of the bed up with the handy remote till it read 55. His was 65. (I reminded him it's not a scoreboard, honey.)
The clock said 11:43. I didn't see it again until 6:15.
Man. I can't get over it. I am so used to seeing times like 1:13, 3:39, 5:11, and then 6:15, tossing and turning to get the broken springs out of my hip (and back, and shoulder, and...).
Mmm. It's time for a nap.
Thanks again, LORD. You have been so good to me.