So I rolled in around noon today, because my co-workers have finally convinced me that I can’t keep up this crazy pace.
We’re, like, battening down the hatches, or whatever, before Isabel gets here. Although we’re not on the coast, we’re in the direct path of the hurricane and chances are good that we’ll see at least some severe weather as a result.
I remember there was a hurricane that hit the Carolina coast when I was in high school and it caused so much flooding in my area that they cancelled school. I’m pretty sure it was Fran.
Anyway. Enough about that.
When I was about 10 years old, I decided that I didn’t want my super-single waterbed anymore. I wanted a daybed. I begged and begged for a daybed.
Ginny and I went to visit our grandparents in Iowa for a couple of weeks, and when we came back, my parents surprised me with one.
Seriously, what the hell was I thinking? Daybeds suck.
Instead of having normal blankets and stuff, you have basically a bedspread with a ruffle on three sides. And you have to fold that stupid ruffle back or take it off the bed entirely if you’re going to sleep in it. And as far as the “day” part goes? No. It’s NOT comfortable to sit on. And I have never understood why the designers on Trading Spaces keep thinking it’s a good idea to make couches out of twin bed mattresses, because it’s the same principle, and it’s not comfortable.
So I had that daybed until I went away to college. And the stupid thing is still out in our storage shed, all rickety and rusty. Every once in awhile my parents will try to act like they want me to take it with me when I move, and I’m like “no. Take it to the Salvation Army.” Ditto for their queen-sized waterbed.
I just want a normal queen-sized bed. Is that so wrong?