Monday, September 27, 2010

I'd roll over, but gravity won't let me.

I'm up late because I'm letting my hair dry.  It's true!  I feel so guilty running the hairdryer after Tony's gone to bed, and I hate dealing with kinks in the morning, so air dry it is.  Which makes for a late night for Kaylas.  I don't know why I'm telling you this.  Remember how it's late?

We haven't been sleeping well lately.  Our Ikea bed we were so excited about is starting to show some wear in the form of creaking.  I know, I know.  I expected Ikea quality so I'm not surprised.  Plus our plans to save up and buy a decent mattress haven't really panned out, so we're still rolling to the middle on the cheap, thin mattress we got off Craigslist, the Wal-Mart memory foam pad on top of which does essentially nothing. 

I shouldn't be complaining; we're still but freshly wed children and I've always anticipated things would be like this in the beginning.  But tell me, does it ever get better?  Will we someday truly be able to squeeze out the $500 or so of our budget to get a new mattress?  Maybe if we keep denying ourselves any out-of-home dining experiences and stop spending our hard-earned money on airsoft guns and crafting supplies we can justify buying a spare set of sheets for laundry day?  (Is it awful for me to be complaining?)

The majority of the struggles I've had with married life so far is wondering if we're doing things right.  What does "normal life" mean for a couple of 7-month married 23-year-olds?  Do we have it unreasonably good?  Are we struggling more than the average couple?  I can guess that the answer is probably that every experience is different, and maybe whatever we're doing is  "right".  Times like these I wish I had a dude - or maybe a very nice, mature, but good-natured lady - to stand to the side and analyze our every move and coach us.  And maybe also help our dog not climb the fence.

Sometimes I just want life simplified.

...It's ridiculous, I know.  Life is not meant to be simplified; it's meant to be complicated.  Probably.  That sounds like something someone mature would say.  Tonight my way of dealing with it is to dream of luxurious things I don't have but would like. 

Like this bedding, from the store that is ultimately unattainable, Anthropologie.

And maybe one of these:

Yes, please.

1 comment:

  1. One of the great dreams of my inner designer is to work for Anthropologie... everything is so beautiful there. The people, the faux-European accents, the furniture, the bucketful of doorknobs with carefully (and classily!) hand-printed pricetags tied on... it all strikes me as perfectly balanced between painfully quaint and unbearably artsy. I love the place.

    If I ever work there, I'll make sure to send some beautifully crafted savings your way.

    And yes, I'm still straight. Just odd.