Today I laid out a considerable amount of money in order to replace a very old piece of furniture.
While there are various chairs and sofas out there taking the name of various French kings named Louis, my bed seemed like the oldest actual piece of furniture still in use by actual human beings.
At 28 years old, that bed is older than some of my coworkers. It’s only about three years younger than I am.
When my wonderful, wonderful coworkers helped me move, they teased me a little bit about my early-80s-styled bed, its hideous brownish flower motif (why was everything brown in the early 1980s?) and its horrible, horrible habit of squeaking every time someone sits on it, lies down on it or looks at it funny.
And we’re not talking a delicate little cute mouse squeak. We’re talking about the cryptkeeper’s door squeak, the kind of squealing squeak that usually only occurs in scary movies when you think the monster is coming for the heroine, but it’s actually the best friend and the real monster is right behind her.
Last time my mom visited she even commented on it. It’s extremely squeaky.
But lest it be said that I’m susceptible to peer pressure, mostly I just wanted a new bed because I’m afraid I’m waking up people in the other apartments near me by turning over in my sleep. I’m a restless sleeper. I once tried to escape my house in my sleep, I saw the Northern Lights in my sleep and I’ve had whole conversations in my sleep without any participation whatsoever from my conscious mind.
And with my old preschool bed, I’m pretty sure I also squeak in my sleep, every time I turn over or kick or have a dream boxing-match with a flying cow who has Morgan Freeman’s voice and Spock’s face. If I reach for the alarm clock in the morning? EEEEEERREEEEIII. If I check the heating blanket settings? EEEEEERRRRRRREEEEEEIIIIIE. If I move? EEEEEEEEEEEAAAAIIIIEEEE.
The only way to avoid the squeak is to hold very still and try not to breathe too emphatically.
So! Out with the old and in with the new; this week I’ll be getting a new bed, thanks in part to birthday funds from my parents, and all of my wonderful grandparents.
I wonder if I’ll miss the squeak.