I’m the sort of careful shopper who follows an extremely predictable course of action when undertaking a large purchase. It’s totally awesome that I am sharing my shopping acumen with the world because the way I save money, it’s a thing of beauty (plus I’m so modest and all).
So. Because this was such a VERY SPECIAL INSTANCE of careful shopping, I simply must share it here. Everyone needs to learn from my example.
Also, everyone should have a king size bed.
How to buy a new bed:
1) Sleep on a really old bed until you wake up every morning with a stiff back.
2) Start thinking about buying a new bed.
3) For several years. (Can’t be too careful.)
4) Resolve that The Time Has Come.
5) Start doing research online.
6) Decide on what you think you want.
7) Go out to a few stores and feel several hundred options.
8) Decide that what you thought you wanted is the wrong thing entirely.
9) Go home and do some more research.
10) Go shopping again for the thing you’ve decided you want.
11) Find the thing you want at a reasonable price at a store you hate…
12) … that offers a sucky warranty…
13) … but has that bed for $1000 cheaper than anywhere else.
14) Keep looking for that bed at other stores.
15) Go home, overwhelmed, and decide in a fit of pique that you’re not buying anything. Ever!
16) Wake up the next morning with a sore back.
17) Receive a $100 off coupon from the expensive furniture store in the mail.
19) Decide to go out shopping again with the children in tow.
20) Go back to the expensive furniture store. Determine that with the $100 coupon, you still cannot come close to affording the bed you want.
21) Feed children ice cream.
22) Take sugar-hyper children to the last store you plan to look at, ever, you MEAN it this time, because this is just hopeless.
23) Simpering salesman interrupts you mid-scold (“DO NOT CLIMB ON THE BEDS”) to say that it’s perfectly fine for the children to climb on the beds.
24) Blink rapidly. Tell the kids to have fun.
25) Check salesman’s face as the kids run amok while you calmly discuss the relative merits of a visco-elastic foam mattress.
26) Offer to buy the first thing the salesman suggests because ENOUGH ALREADY with the shopping and the wild children and the beds and please make it stop.
27) Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of an expensive slab of concrete.
Oh, alright. Only 1-25 are true. I actually offered to buy the SECOND bed he suggested, and it’s not made of concrete. It’s actually quite comfy. I think. It’s all kind of a blur, frankly.
Just as you shouldn’t shop for groceries on an empty stomach, so too should a savvy shopper avoid selecting a bed when strung out on cold medicine. Unless your children are leap-frogging across a line of showroom beds, in which case it’s perfectly permissible to buy a bed just to make up for the shame.
My confession: I bought a bed from one of those places that I hate. HATE. I abhor establishments that do inflated mark-ups so that they can make you feel like you’re getting some sort of amazing deal. I think it’s sleazy. But the price was right (after he made me an offer and I countered and Monkey licked one of the displays and he said “Sure, I think I can do that for you,” when really he meant “Dear God, please let’s wrap this up so that you can get your spawn out of my store.”) and I was TIRED OF SHOPPING.
Do you see what I’ve been reduced to? Tired of shopping? I never thought this day would come.
So on Friday, the new bed arrives. The new great big bed. I think. I think I bought a big one. I should probably check the receipt. Right after I finish scrubbing Monkey’s tongue.