“They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains,” he remarked with a smile.
– Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, A Study in Scarlet
I must be a freaking genius because I am a hobbled-up woman this morning. My head and neck feel as if they are made from broken glass. Most concerning is the ticklish feeling I am getting around the corners of my eyes. It might be a migraine in the making. Might not. Not taking any chances, either way. I’ve swallowed a handful of Advil and Excedrine. We’ll see who laughs last, headache.
Oh, for a bed that didn’t cause this sort of misery!
Our bed is a ten year old pillow top. At the time of purchase, it was very nice. However, neither of us weighs the same as a fairy’s fart – so the coils have all been mashed down into a huge divot1 in the center.
Personally, I would love one of those Tempur-Pedics. The kind where your sleeping partner can land the fucking shuttle on the bed and not upset a glass of wine, much less disturb your snoozing self. Unfortunately, those things cost more than I can afford at this time. Maybe at any time. I’ve seen cars go for less. Ah, me. Maybe when I am rich famous2?
1 – To get the proper emotion behind that sentence, say it like the father from So I Married an Axe Murderer. The bit where he’s talking about Heed and his huge pillow.
2 – *snerk*giggle*