When I was growing up I had the best bed ever.  I was filled with what I think were millions of fuzzy ends from Q-tips and I am fairly certain that it didn't have any inner springs or any other form of actual support.  You could dive into it and you were instantly surrounded in fantastic softness, supported in a curve, folded up like a taco.  I loved my bed.  I named it The Taco.  I even wrote an essay about it in high school.  I wish I still had it, that essay I mean.  It should have been filed away in my Permanent Record, at least then I would know it was safe.

Which is more than I can say for the bed.  I took The Taco with me when I moved away from home and hauled it around for years from one apartment to the next.  Until Marty and I moved in together and he said that he would could not sleep in it.  He "claimed" that it wasn't designed for two, that a full-sized bed was too small, and that he spent the whole night trying to "climb" out of The Taco's hold.  For love, I agreed to set The Taco aside, storing it in a closet in our apartment.  Where it sat upright and unused and became The Musty Taco.  He convinced me that it was time to get rid of The Taco, that NO ONE EVER should sleep on it again.

When I found out I was pregnant with Martin, Marty told me that we would need to get a king-sized bed.  He said that I'd need the room with my expanding belly and all, that it would be more comfortable in the long run.  I fought against the idea for awhile, it would take up our entire bedroom and it just seemed, I don't know, EXCESSIVE.  I relented, demanding that at least we get the super squishy pillow top kind so that I could be reminded of the good old days with The Taco.

Over the years, we've modified the bed, making it almost as comfy as The Taco.  I made kind of a poor choice with the headboard, not realizing how uncomfortable and kind of bendy metal headboards can be.  But at the time, our space was super limited and barely anything would fit into our room, and because of that, my choices were few.  We have soft pillows, soft sheets, double top sheets with a thin cotton blanket in between.  For most of the year, our bed is topped by a quilt we received from my Aunt Susan for our wedding, and in the winter we switch to a down comforter.  It really is quite comfortable.

Which I guess is why everyone wants to sleep there.  And after Marty showed me the picture he took this morning, I also know why I've been waking all cramped up and with a back ache.  It's because there are two bed hogs that have commandeered the mid-section of the bed, forcing the primary users to the thin ledges of the side. 


I could move over, I guess, if not for those two toddler feet poking me in the back.  And Martin would move over, but he's being used as a pillow.  And Marty would be there, but there's just not room for him at all.  Guess he was right that we'd need a bigger bed, but wrong that a king would be big enough for everyone who would sleep there.

If he mentions something about needing a softer bed in the basement, I'm going to suggest that if we'd kept The Taco, he'd have the perfect bed for one.  I'm sure he'll think that's HILARIOUS.