now I lay me down to sleep...

This may be silly, but one of my long-time dreams has consisted of the ownership of at least several beds -- one of those goals that falls slightly behind dog ownership and house ownership: one of those goals the achievement of which will prove me that much closer to being a "real grown-up."

The one thing I have historically disliked the most about Christmas as I came into my adulthood has been the Bridget Jones Syndrome -- going home every Christmas to sleep in a single bed in my parents' house. (In point of fact, the bed I sleep in at my parents' house is a queen, which until recently topped what I owned for myself. But still -- the principle has applied.) It wasn't so much whining about being single as it was whining about being the only one to have to travel anywhere. One of the glories of the pinnacle of adulthood -- home ownership -- is supposed to be your ability to have your family come and visit you. And I would love to host Christmas on a rotating basis. I delight in cooking yummy food for people, and watching them relax in a peaceful and tastefully (if whimsically) decorated environment that I created. I pour a lot of work -- a lot of myself -- into my home and my cooking, and it's hardly rewarding when I'm the only recipient.

Which always comes down to beds. Strange leap? Perhaps. But a real grown-up has a guest bed, a nice double or queen sized, the better to put up parents and married siblings. It's kind of embarrassing to invite people over just to sleep on my floor. (Which is absurd as I never mind sleeping on other people's floors. The Spine of Satan reaches a delicious state of moral neutrality from sleeping on floors.) I like my company to feel comfortable, and that means I'd like them to have a nice place to sleep.

So sometime this autumn/winter my parents are bringing me (or I am going to fetch) a nice large sofa that opens into a queen sized bed (and is no less comfortable as a couch for serving as a bed, which is nice), which, as I see it, puts me a step closer.

The most amazing thing of all, though, happened just recently. Boss-Lady owns a mobile home behind the office which she rents out, and the latest tenants have recently vacated it. She had rented it to them partially furnished, and one of those partial furnishings is a queen sized bed with a truly lovely frame. She's tired of her stuff getting damaged by unscrupulous renters, has no use for an extra bed in her house, and decided to give it to me. (?!)

When I hesitated about accepting it, she said she would just donate it to charity, and I said, "Well, if you're going to get rid of it anyway, I'll be the object of your charity!" and with many grateful exclamations agreed to take the bed.

The house I'm moving into (yes, thank God, another house all to myself -- the one I went to see a few days ago is going to work out beautifully, and the rent is a STEAL -- I'm still on my knees thanking God for that miracle) has considerably more space than The State of Denmark, but I don't know if its second (teeeeeeny weeny) bedroom will accommodate a queen; still, I have determined somehow to make it work. It's not a large house by any stretch, but it will be perfect for me, and although I don't necessarily see hosting Christmas this year, the new guest bed puts me a step closer.

Again, it's probably silly, and has just added to the pile of things I already haul around as I ping and pong across the Western Hemisphere, but even so, I'm ridiculously excited about it -- partially for extremely selfish reasons, because if I have a queen sized sofa bed, and a queen sized guest bed, I'll never have to give up my own roomy mattress in the name of proper hosting when my parents visit.



[Oh, and speaking of travel, I have decided that I am most definitely, as far as it remains up to me, making tracks for Grove City's Homecoming in October -- one of my brilliant excuses being that, now that I've decided to return to school, talking to my professors about programs and letters of recommendation will further my career. So taking a Friday off work to drive down and have some fun with old friends on old stomping grounds...well, I have to do that, see?

Which leads me to the question: Would any of my dear readers and fellow Grovers be willing to put me up? I'm keeping my budget simple and I'm a VERY thoughtful and entertaining houseguest. Not only do I wash the dishes and change the toilet paper roll when it runs out, I usually come armed with a pound of good coffee and a suitcase full of excellently dramatized stories.]