I’m an excellent hostess. Pull up a box of kleenex and sit down.
Remember when I said maybe I was getting sick? Dude. I’m PSYCHIC. (Or was that psychotic? I can never keep those two straight.) Or perhaps I had a little tickle in the back of my throat, even then. But I prefer to believe I’m psychic, as that’s a better counterpoint to a runny nose.
Stupid cold weather. I cry uncle! I give up! I turned on my heat today. If I’m going to get a cold every couple of weeks, at least I want to be able to feel my toes inside my slippers.
Anyway. I woke up sick today, but yesterday I was still laboring under the delusion of Life As Usual. Though there were some hints that the day wasn’t off to a good start.
My first clue that yesterday wasn’t going to be smooth sailing was The Tragedy Of The Tea. After spending a good fifteen or twenty minutes internally arguing over whether I should make some tea or coffee here at home or drive through and pick up a cup of coffee somewhere on my way to Monkey’s soccer game, I decided to make my standard cup of green tea with lemon. Boring, but fine, and FREE! I located my travel mug and put the water on to boil while I dried my hair.
I heard the kettle whistling just as I finished up, and skipped down the stairs pleased with my timing. I had just enough time to pour my tea, gather my things, and get out to the field before the game started.
(The kids spent the weekend with their dad, which meant I got to sleep late and take an extra-long shower. Ahhhhhhh.)
Teabag into the mug. Water into the mug. Squirt of lemon into the mug. Lid on mug. Mug on mudroom floor while I found my shoes… mug kicked over by one under- caffeinated dunderhead.
Colorful stream of commentary issued. Mug back on kitchen counter. Paper towels on mudroom floor. Lid off mug. More water into the mug. More lemon into the mug. Lid on mug. Mug taken directly to the car’s cupholder, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, do not knock the stupid thing over again, you klutz.
I arrived at the field moments before they began.
I clutched the mug to warm my hands and enjoyed a few fragrant sips before setting it down in the grass next to my chair… where it promptly fell over and unloaded half its contents.
The game itself was great, though. All except the part where I was thirsty, and yawning.
I grabbed a cup of coffee on my way home. I spilled it while attempting to juggle my keys, purse, the mail, and it on my way back into the house, though. At that point I just gave up on liquids.
Yesterday afternoon I decided to go out and try some beds. You see, since deciding what size bed to buy, I’ve done a lot of internet research on what I might want, but no actual bed testing. I had some ideas about what I wanted, sure. Now it was time to go for test-drives.
Here’s the problem: Most everything I’ve read suggests that you need to lie on a bed for a good fifteen to twenty minutes to know if it’s truly comfortable. The consumer is urged not to feel any embarrassment about lounging on a showroom bed for this period of time, as it is critical to proper selection.
Yes. Well. I am shameless about many things, it’s true. But laying on a bed in the middle of a furniture store, by myself, for a quarter of an hour, is just not in my repertoire. Quite honestly I am a little squicked out about laying on those beds AT ALL, given how grungy some of them are starting to look. Plus the PILLOWS! Don’t even get me started. I hate to put my head where other (unknown, potentially unWASHed) heads have been. The whole thing is hard for me, is the point.
But I was determined to try.
I did my best. I did spend as much time as I could stand on about ten different beds across three different stores. I slipped in and out of one store, totally escaping detection. In the other two, a salesperson glommed onto me immediately and wanted to make my experience as unpleasant as possible.
Know what is more uncomfortable than lying on a bed in the middle of a crowded store? Lying on a bed in the middle of a crowded store while some guy in a cheap suit tries to ask you about your “needs.”
(“What I need, I don’t think you guys sell here….”)
It was at the second store where I think I found the right bed. But I was determined 1) to hit at least one more store and 2) not make a purchase right away to get it overwith (I have been known to do that), so I continued on to the last store. Now that I had a pretty good idea of what I like, I told the salesbarnacle who attached to me what I’d seen at the other store and asked to see something comparable.
Well. DON’T BE FOOLED, I was cautioned. YES, their warranty is longer, BUT their standards for wear are different. Here at This Furniture Store we will replace for just a quarter inch of sag! At That Furniture Store they require two inches of sag before they replace! Read the terms! Okay, well, that’s all well and good, I hear you, thanks. Now, can you show me something like what I saw there?
Sure. This Furniture Store has a comparable bed for just twice the price. Wait! Where are you going?? Maybe I should go for a smaller bed of higher quality, instead of buying a bed I really can’t afford. (That was not a smart salesperson. I very nearly said “I HAD TO POLL PEOPLE ON MY BLOG to decide on a king and I WANT A KING AND YOU NEED TO SHUT UP,” but I didn’t.)
I came home with cards and brochures and feeling nearly as confused as when I’d set out. Was the bed I liked the right one for me? Was the warranty sufficient? Would I feel physical pain, forking over the money for it? Or would I rejoice in my first good night’s sleep in ages and declare it the best purchase of my life?
I do not know the answer to any of these questions. But what I DO know is that I put my head down on a number of beds yesterday and today I am sick. Draw your own conclusions.
The store that carries the bed I like has online ordering, so if I come to a firm decision I can just order it from here at home. Which is nice. But I can’t do it now, because it’s wrong to buy beds under the influence. And I am definitely under the influence of the Nyquil right now. Instead, I think I’ll go to sleep here in my small, uncomfortable bed.
Too bad I’m not allowed to have liquids anymore. I could use a cup of tea.