every little glove is gonna be alright
The Boy & I bought a mattress today. One of the hardest parts of our adjustment to this new phase of our lives is the idea that we have moved past the "spend" phase into an "earn" phase. For the entire time that the Boy & I have been together, one of us has been in school right up to last year. And I don't know about you, but I just didn't have money for nice beds when we were both going through money like it was so much tissue. Our bed history has only three chapters. Chapter 1, the Futon, was the longest. I got that futon the same summer I began dating the Boy, and we silently suffered through its' posturetastic reign of discomfort for 3 ½ years. Chapter 2, the Bed, began when we started co-sleeping with Blake. By this time the futon mattress had degraded to a point at which no one thought it would be safe to bring two adults and an infant onto it on a nightly basis. So my parents upgraded and handed down, just as they did when we moved into a house with no appliances.
Chapter 2 was a great improvement on Chapter 1. For one thing, we weren't rolling toward each other in the night, and we didn't wake up with the slats imprinted on our musculature. But let's face it: a mattress really isn't the kind of thing that gets better with age. We knew something was up when we slept better on Preacher's guest bed than at home. (We also have an embarrassing tendency to fall asleep reading to Blake, as his mattress is also much better than ours.)
Today we decided to go through a bit of last year's tax return, and instead of getting an elaborately shaded tattoo (which was my first idea) we made an investment into our nights. And as a girl who used to dress up in black a lot, I can't help but think that the night is the right place for my money.
The morning trip for mattresses having reduced the Boy to puffy-faced incoherence, I took Blake with me to meet Mason for lunch n' yarn. I didn't actually buy yarn, but I did get to chase Blake around and protect the Lorna's Laces, and Blake got to play with the many knitting-themed magnets. Plus, Mason got to sing Bob Marley through a dog mitten. (Everybody wins when we come out to play.)
Downsides? Lunch sucked, but at least we can cross one of the many Spadina restaurants off the possibilities list (there are so many that I always feel unadventurous for returning instead of striking out to a new place). Plus, Mason is always good for some vicarious knitting purchase. The man loves his gear. (I hear he had five knives that do essentially the same thing, although I can't confirm this as of press time.)
I can't wait to see what'll happen when he tires of knitting and decides to learn spinning.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*