Yes, this really is a blog about my bed. Cosy, cosy, broken bed.
Last night, I got into my clean bed and settled on down for a goodnight’s sleep. And a goodnight’s sleep was had. I would not have been able to get into my clean bed if it were not for my friends.
It embarrasses me to admit that I do not have the strength to strip and make my bed. I also do not have the strength to vacuum up my shedding mane. Both points are also frustrating. My embarrassment was such that it took me three weeks to ask for help. As with most things, I didn’t ask one person, I advertised my weakness of a social networking site known as Facebook.
The bed stripping is usually done by Mamma Jones, but she has not been to the flat for a while. Essentially then, what I am trying to tell you, is that I have been lying in a pit for the last week. A pit covered in crumbs and an unfortunately positioned chocolate stain on the under sheet .
Yep, I am still talking about my bed. It is amazing what sort of things cause stress these days.
My advert worked. I received three kind offers and accepted one based on geographical distance to the flat, and thus less of an effort to the friend in question. My knight in shining armour came to the flat yesterday evening wearing a deerstalker. My he was dashing. He chivalrously changed my bedding whilst I did my best impression of a back seat driver (I really do have a lot of cushions, it’s a construction).
He then left and I got into my cosy, cosy bed. It smelt and felt so good. In fact, it felt so good, I stayed in bed until 13:00hrs. I am a lazy bum.
I really cannot wait to get back in it. I am making myself wait.