I’m a cheap person when it comes to everything but food and my bed. I like to shop at thrift stores and second hand shops. I will sluice water in my shampoo bottle to make sure I get every last drop. I will use friggen’ sandpaper to wipe my special parts if it means I get to sleep on something comfortable.
Not that I have ever actually used sandpaper anywhere on my body, especially not my special parts.
Now that that’s cleared up, the point I’m actually trying to make is: I really like my bed. It is very easy to relax in and get ready for my (second) favorite bed related activity…sleep.
It’s very comfortable. It’s got a nice squishy mattress, more pillows than I could ever actually need, and the comforter was a gift from my dad when I was ten years old. It’s in reaching distance of my to-be-read pile (that’s my favorite bed activity by the way…naughty people). The sheets are, in fact, Egyptian cotton, Oftentimes there is a cat in it just waiting to purr. It’s Heaven.
Also, I’m also pretty sure it’s cursed.
I know, I know, it’s a weird thing to think about your bed; but here me out. I make a fairly credible case. There is this thing that happens just as I’m getting ready for sleep. I have set aside my current reading project. A glass of ice water is merrily melting on the nightstand. The blankets are settled in just the right way. Daydreams, both strange and pleasant, have permeated my consciousness and my body has grown heavy with the desire to sleep. and at that very moment my brain is taken unawares by…IDEAS.
Not just any ideas, oh no, but the perfect ones. That word I was looking for earlier has decided that it’s ready to come out and play. A scene that would perfectly express a characters faults and yet maintain their heroic nature. The perfect circle to my literary theme has made itself known.
While I COULD get out of bed and go write them down…my bed is just so damn comfy. It wont even let me reach for that little notebook that I have sitting near that glass of water. My has completely lulled me with a spell of lethargy and deceit. My pillows whisper a promise that when I wake up I will remember all of these awesome ideas, they are just too perfect to forget. Of course, when I wake up, I’ve forgotten completely.
See, it’s totally cursed.