We recently purchased the first REAL bed of our together life.
See, Jed's been itching to get a king-sized bed ever since he woke up one morning balanced on the edge of his side of our new queen-sized mattress and fell off. With a thud.
It is no secret that I am a bed hog, cover thief and whatever other crimes come with the unconsciousness of slumber. Although I think we are polar opposites of our waking selves in the dead of sleep - I turn into a cuddler and he turns into a mollusk - I don't argue with his reasoning that even though I constantly feel cold my body emits the heat of a furnace. It's probably true, and I blame whatever crazy endocrine lottery I somehow won for this dichotomy.
So when one of his buddies needed a bed to sleep on he eagerly volunteered our six-year-old mattress set so he could replace it with a football field.
Since we were biting the bullet, we decided we might as well buy a bed frame to boot. You know finally get it off the floor (we're not in college anymore, right?) So we select some moderately priced sleigh bed to go with our extremely high priced, state-of-the-art back support mattresses (incidentally sold by sheep).
The furniture store delivered the beast Tuesday and had it set up in minutes. I never thought I'd say this, but the darn thing eclipses the room. (For those of you who know ... our room is GIGANTIC! If anyone should be able to accommodate a king-sized bed easily it should be us). Laying ontop of it, with the ceiling closer, I actually felt the room closing in on me.
Jed even had to admit it is a monster.
"Uhm ... Honey. ... The bed just told me he'd like steak and eggs for breakfast. ... and possibly one of the dogs."