Tuesday, 14 August 2007

As I lay me down to sleep

I’ve always had a very close relationship with my bed, an old-fashioned king-size that’s so weightily unwieldy that it requires several strong men to shift it. (No, not like that. Get your mind out the gutter.)

But I’ve been sleeping on it for 15 years and before it was donated to me it belonged to friends of my parents, who told me when they handed it over that all four of their children had been both conceived and delivered in it. A profound case of information overshare, but there it is.

So my trusty old king-size was beginning to go bump – well, sproing – in the night; getting into it was becoming a case of negotiating hills and dales, and getting out again required some fairly energetic rocking, so I decided that I’d stump up for a brand-new bed. I’ve never had a brand-new bed in the 43 years I’ve been alive, so this was terribly exciting for me.

Now, far be it for me to indulge in product placement on Salmagundi, but let me just say that I’m so glad we live in the Information Age, and that Dial-a-Bed is a gift from the consumer gods. I went onto their website, clicked on the bed I wanted (sadly, I couldn’t afford a king-size – around R8K for a bed! eeek! – so I’ve downgraded to a queen), entered my bank account details, and half an hour later a nice man phoned me to tell me my bed was on its way.

A few days later it arrived. And oh what a joy and a delight it truly is! Firm at its core, with a satiny-soft exterior (like, if you don’t mind me saying, in the spirit of pillow-talk, a good erection), it is also princess-pretty and light as a feather. (Okay, not a feather. A kori bustard, perhaps.)

This segues – pronounced ‘seg-ways’, by the way, and did you know that? I didn’t, until recently, when my 17-year-old son used it in a sentence and I giggled at him. He gave me a stony stare and said, ‘Go look it up in the dictionary, Mom.’ Most embarrassing. But I digress.

This segues into two stories, one about another bed and one about banks.

I got an email from a friend in Jozi recently who showed how crime in the big naartjie can be turned to one’s advantage. ‘I needed to get rid of the baby’s cot,’ she wrote, of her youngest child’s upgrade to a real bed, ‘but didn’t want to go to the hassle of selling it. So I put it outside on the pavement and 10 minutes later it was gone.’

And about the bank – you know how easy (and justifiable) it is to moan endlessly about bloody banks, who charge through the nose for the privilege of looking after our money? Well, I had to make a big transaction this morning (over R13K) on my debit card, and not an hour later someone from Nedbank’s card fraud division phoned me to check that the transaction had been legit. I don’t often feel I get what I pay for from my bank, but I was pretty impressed by that.

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meggie said...

I am impressed with your bank too! Most of them are just greedy money sneaking bastards.If you can call an institution a bastard!
We bought ourselves a new bed, only to find it was not new! & it had a sinking patch in one side. They replaced it, but it was still faulty, so we got our money back! & bought a bed elswhere.

Audrey said...

Gawd. I've been saying "Seegs" all my life. Now you tell me???

Juno said...

'Seegs' sounds way better than seg-way, don't you think? And seegs as I've been saying it that way all my life, I think I'll just jolly well carry on. I'm also disappointed to hear that pronouncing 'heinous' hee-nis is considered non-standard English. Huh. I'm not going to say hay-nis, least of all because it doesn't rhyme with penis.

angel said...

your son used "segue" in a sentence... wow, i take it he wasn't talking about the stand-on-two-wheeled-office-run-around thinies!!
my bank has impressed me once or twice, so i don't worry too much about them...
speaking of mattresses- i am very much in the same boat when it comes to old ones... i SO need a new one!