My Bratty Inner Child Julia is sulking because I haven't kept my promise to write exclusively "life is so good" posts this summer. She's mad because I've written about inflammatory cytokines, and Sjogren's fatigue, and brain fog and grocery carts....well. Thinking that these topics aren't feel-good material, she's pitching a fit. So to placate BICJ today's entry is ALL GOOD STUFF.
When our son was born, John and I bought a new mattress and bedroom furniture. It was pretty exciting because previously our stuff was hand-me-downs and mismatched. And now? That set is 34 years old. And the bed frame and mattress was delegated to a guest room when we got a king size mattress.
The king only ruled for three stinkin' years after which it had developed two John and Julia shaped trenches. The stupid thing turned into a double hammock. John said he needed a periscope to see his alarm clock. Of course by then the warranty had expired by two years.
So we're excited this week to take delivery of a new mattress but even better -- a new bed. I can't wait to plop myself onto this beauty.
Lulu probably won't be able to jump up on this one. I think she needs one of those doggy stairs.
Happy, BICJ? Why yes. Yes we are.