Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Wedding Bed(s)?


Ohmigod, what is it with me and blogging?My last post was on May 21. Nice. I never was very committed to anything.

Anyhoo, this post shan't be about books. Go ahead. Wipe the sweat from your brow. Although. I did finish 2666 by Roberto Bolano ... Okay. You caught me. I got through half of 2666 by Roberto Bolano. And I will not recommend it to you, even though I'm a big fan of cruel and unusual punishment. I am not, however, a fan of self-mutilation, and that's what you would do if you read that novel. Moving on. I saw a very cool article in the New York Times today. And by very cool, I mean something that brings me closer and closer to normalcy. Check it out.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/25/fashion/25FamilyMatters.html?_r=3&adxnnl=1&ref=style&adxnnlx=1280862077-ch3zhEP8/QB8PsiCBVzAlw


For those of you who don't have the energy to click and read - even though I'm sure all of you are very proactive people - here's a run-down: it is common, so "they" say, for married couples to have separate beds - Nay! - separate bedrooms. This proves that I am not a cold-hearted, unromantic shrew.

In my fantasy marriage - which I daydream about all the time, let me tell you - I will have my own room. And apparently, this is fairly common. Do you think this is weird? I don't. I hated sharing a bedroom with my sister, so why would I love sharing a bedroom with my fantasy husband? I know, I know. I will undoubtedly paste myself to his glittering pecs of steel, but I still don't want to share a room. We can rendezvous from time to time - maybe hour to hour in our twenties, day to day in our thirties, even year to year in our sixties. I'm all for some lovin'. Having separate rooms will bring that extra zest - not that my fantasy marriage would ever need zest - to our lives. We can pretend we aren't even married: "My place or yours?" Isn't that cool? I think it most definitely is.

And I can stay up late and watch The Notebook whenever I want (I know your intruder-alert signal is buzzing but most girls like doing this so I figured I'd use it as an example, ahem), he can stay up late and watch Sports Center whenever he wants (really enjoying that solo room right now), I can talk in my sleep to Johnny Depp without his ego shriveling up, he can snore as loud as his nose pleases, and I can sleep at a cool (and room temperature) seventy-five degrees Farenheit since his big, fat - and highly flammable - log of an arm isn't hurled over me at an incredibly uncomfortable ninety-six degrees. Pshew.

So, my fantasy house for my fantasy family will have two master bedrooms.

On a separate and much more somber note, my friend Bailey is moving to ... Pennsylvania? What's a girl to do? Read, I guess. Until next time - which, hopefully won't be too long from now - see ya later.



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