Greetings to all my fair readers. I am slowly working my way back. Something came to mind the other night while I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep:
The size of the playground known as my bed.
Note that I’ve added a new poll to my sidebar, asking about the size off your playground.
CJ and I have a magnificent King size bed.
I think I’ve mentioned before what a special place I think it is. I know that I’ve told CJ on a regular basis the same thing. Some of the adjectives that I would use to describe are: special, fun, and mystical, just to name a few.
I think having a King size bed gives us freedom. There’s more movement available for one reason.
I must admit that it seems as though we do less spooning than we did when we had smaller beds, and I wonder if it isn’t because of all the room.
It’s nostalgic to think back to college when we would spend the nights together in a twin bed, but I could never stand that again.
So, does size matter when it comes to your bed?
What do you think of that poor piece of furniture that takes all that pounding from your mutual love?
By the way the pictures of the bed for today are at the new apartment, you can even see that the bedroom opens out onto a balcony.