What is it about beds? They’re all pretty much the same (except for the water bed I had in Stuttgart!). When I arrived home the other night and after not enough sleep the night before and then eleven more sleepless or restless hours on the plane (watching way too many movies) I finally crashed on my own bed. What an amazing feeling.
My bed’s no better than any other bed, except … it’s my bed! For some unknown reason my body recognizes it, embraces it, relaxes into it. We are, indeed, old friends.
This picture is not my bed. It’s the bed I wish I had. Nice old mission-style antique bed. But now I’m wondering. Am I willing to put my old friend out to pasture .. to break up the relationship. Gotta give this new bed idea some more thought.