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Beds

Sis and Marx are getting a "new" bed -- her grandma's old one. This is much-needed, as there have been complaints about back and so forth.

marxdarx disassembled the bunkbed from their room yesterday evening, and reassembled it in my room (with my somewhat ineffectual help) last night, to the tune of much clanging and banging and occasional curses. I now have an Actual Bed for the first time in a good four years; this one is much sturdier than the one that BJ got (which creaked and rattled in a most alarming way any time someone touched it) and I like it.

Both mattresses from the top bunk are thoroughly nasty, and smell very much of Wet Bed. (I wish I'd had the foresight to sniff those mattresses when I was throwing out the twin mattresses that I formerly had, but alas...) Therefore, they shall be History. I have currently parked the salvaged couch cushions up there in the top bunk. The cats are very much enjoying this. shammash looks particularly regal up there. Watching him attempt to walk around on the bare metal bars is amusing. I pulled the final mattress out from under him a few minutes ago, and he attempted to lounge on the bars. He was happy when I put the couch cushions back up there.

I have improvised a privacy curtain for the bed for when there are random strangers in the room, and/or for when my bed's just a mess, and/or for blocking of ambient light. This is the same large piece of fabric that was the curtain for the Little Fayoumis and helping keep the light out of his eyes when he was trying to sleep, held on to the top bunk rail with a few strategically placed shower curtain rings, the sort that snap together. The effect is tidy and very, very black, as the fabric's black, the bed is black, and the shower curtain rings are black. ...This is altogether unsurprising, of course.

marxdarx has gone off with Clover and her husband to pick up the bed. I'm going to go back to bed, now, to catch up on that little thing they call "sleep".
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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