Spent pretty much all day on the couch, snotty and sore, making phone calls about the mortgage stuff (which settles this week) and binge-watching old episodes of 30 Rock.
Does anyone else ever have those moments of epiphany where it seems like a TV show or movie has completely summarised your life, and you are exactly like one of the characters and should therefore learn from them and do as they do?… That’s about the point where I figured I’d taken too much codeine.
Tomorrow (regardless of any snot and pain) I have to go and pick up a rental truck so that I can drive across the city to collect a fireplace… and 900kg of floor tiles… and a bed. I’ve been buying stuff for Imaginary House. Plus the bed is probably a 6-month anniversary present for me and Rob.
We have developed a bed-theme for big joint presents of late. Rob hates our old bed, because the mattress was starting to collapse with age and the slats underneath are metal anyway. He was tossing and turning and waking up sore, while I was just blithely sleeping on the couch because his fidgeting kept me awake. So for Christmas last year (despite a general agreement that since we didn’t have any family around that year, and we were still paying off the wedding, we didn’t need to do Christmas or presents for each other) we collectively bought a new mattress, which was delivered on Christmas Eve.
Only, as it turned out later, the store had delivered the wrong mattress to us. So they turned up again on Boxing Day, with a truck and not much of an apology. The one they’d given us was a slightly more expensive model, which had been purchased by someone else, but in the pre-Christmas rush they’d got the two mattresses mixed up. The other customer had noticed the mistake and demanded they remedy the error, so the store was bringing us our mattress still wrapped in plastic to exchange for the one we’d been given… Except the problem was that we hadn’t noticed the mistake (let’s face it, they were both white mattresses that looked the same on the outside but had different tags) so we’d already unwrapped and… well… used ours.
We also have three black cats.
So after just two days residing at our house, this store was collecting a slightly-soiled white mattress that was already covered in black cat hair. I was really uncomfortable with the thought that they were okay with taking that mattress to another customer (who’d paid more than us in the first place). Plus it seemed like they were taking away the first joint Christmas present of our marriage. How much more symbolic does it get than buying a bed with your new spouse? However, they didn’t seem to give a damn, and even suggested that if we wanted to keep the mattress they’d delivered in error then we’d have to pay them the difference then and there… Which kind of added insult to injury and sounded a lot like extortion.
We also didn’t have the money at that time. I burst into tears when they left. It was the day after Christmas and they’d taken away our one and only present.
However, despite the new (second) mattress, Rob is still finding the bed very uncomfortable. Plus the weight of a new mattress has made the metal frame all squeaky. A look underneath proved that the slats are actually starting to bow inward like ribs on a boat – which is possibly to be expected on a 20-year-old bed frame that was just bought at The Warehouse originally anyway. So I’ve bought a (slightly girly) brass bed frame to replace it, because this one has flexible wooden slats and is brand new. Ironically, (probably thanks to those darned free-trade agreements) the new bed frame actually cost me less than the old one did 20 years ago! $229 versus $299, back when I had to put $299 on layby because I was a poor student and it was a lot of money.
If Rob hates the brass bed frame then we’ll just put up with it for the next few months and then use it in the spare bedroom at Imaginary House.
I really don’t know why I’m flogging the credit card at the moment. Jesus, we’re still paying rent and we’ve got a mortgage going live this week…