So here I sit, on the floor, in the living room of my new Canadian home. My name is on the lease. On the floor is really the only place there is to sit, until I move my furniture up later this month. The floor, or the new bed. TBD today, sometime in the 3-6 o’clock time frame. That is my job today. Wait for the mattress people to call and then wait for them to show up. Wil’s job is to go to work and make us money. Yay!
Shopping for the new bed was an interesting experience. I’m used to making purchases by myself, for myself. I might ask for advice or recommendations before major purchases, and I always wanted my stepdad to look at the cars I was buying, but mostly I know what I want and I get it. If I can. This time, it wasn’t just me. I was trying to be very conscientious of the fact that this bed was going to be Wil’s too. So, imagine my confusion when he failed to have an opinion about anything. I’d bounce on the bed, tell him to try it, he’d sit down and give his stock answer “It’s nice. It’s good.”
We had a conversation that went something like this:
“Look, babe, I’m trying not to just think of myself here, trying not to just railroad you into a bed I want. It’s your bed too.”
“Do you remember when we got the mattress in Victoria, what you said after the first night of sleeping on it?”
“I believe I said it was not acceptable.”
“Right.”
“You could feel the springs. It was very old. But I tricked it out.”
“Yes you did.”
“I bought it pads and such. It was much better after I was done with it.”
“Yes, it was. But you see, I thought it was fine before you did that.”
“Ahhhh…. I see what you are saying. I have higher standards than you.”
“Yes.”
“And you trust my bed shopping talents because if it’s comfortable for me, it will be comfortable for you.”
“Sure.”
I think we found the perfect solution. I know from all the motels, hotels, etc that we’ve stayed at recently, Wil likes a firmer bed than I. So we got a Sleep Number bed.
Poor baby, he’s probably slept in crap beds all his life. How did he manage without me?