My Bed

September 30, 2010


I’ve always had problems with beds. In university we slept on beds that were standardized for all. If you were about 5 feet tall and thin as a pencil. But the beds were firm. You could place a glass of beer on the bed and it would not spill a drop.  No matter how much activity there was. After college I slept on a lot of mattresses. On floors. Which were fine until you woke up the next morning. With a hangover. And had to drag yourself up to your feet. Then I moved in with a girl. Who had a brass bed. Single. I had to lace my arms through the bars at the head or I would have fallen out during the night. My wife and I share a king size bed. But my wife,  sweet and loving when she is awake, turns into a Napoleon when asleep. She must have all the blankets. I remember my first bed. Bought for me. By my folks. It had a little shelf for books at the head, and a place for a radio. And there was a light. And it fit me to a tee. No wonder I never wanted to grow up.

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