Beddie Bye

Just got home tonight, walked into the bedroom and beheld an image that set my pulse racing at full gallop. But sadly, not for the reason you might think.

Yesterday, I'd been informed that the Oasis of Graciousness management would be replacing my bed. But that didn't prepare me for a scene from "A Thousand and Frakkin' One Arabian Nights." I mean, I can appreciate a girly, ornate four poster as much as the next incurable romantic, but this thing looks like it's straight from a Uzbekistan torture chamber. And it's about 6 inches higher than the other bed, which should come in really handy after a Ladies' Night outing at the local Japanese Korean restaurant.

Once my mild heart attack subsided, I couldn't help ruminating about the vastly different stages of life. At age 8, if I'd seen a bed like this, I'd have tied a towel to my head, called myself Scheherazade and waited for my Sultan to come and clasp me in a swoon-y embrace, just like in the Disney movies. At age 48, I just worry that I'll trip and lose an eye on one of those spiky bedposts, or roll over and bust a hip during one of those 2 AM bladder runs.

Sweet dreams are made of this???? OY!