Not wishing to have to change the sheets, I didn't try the wine part. Since it was only a pad and made of cheaper material than the one advertised, I thought it wise not to push my luck. Aside from that, I slept rather well. The idea that I should awaken in the same position I fell asleep was a bust -- that's only happened to me on a water bed, anyway. The cat and dog also fared pretty well, it seems. There's much less prowling and growling this morning, suggesting they awoke feeling "alert and refreshed." I should write the manufacturer and offer their endorsement; maybe we'll get a commission large enough to pay for the thing.
I contemplated the mattress version, by the way, having sank deeply into one while visiting a patient in a local hospital last year. Her roommate had been discharged and the only chair in the room was occupied by my partner, so I took a seat on the empty bed. "Sank" is definitely the word because I quickly found myself wrapped in foam nearly to my waist. It reminded me of an old time Western saddle with a high cantle and wide swells (see photo), designed to keep a cowboy on the wildest bucking horse. Despite the temptation, I refrained from breaking into song, "Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam..." It just seemed a bit out of place.
At any rate, that was my only previous experience with this kind of thing, but since my pad came from a discount store, I assumed it would be lower tech to begin with. Still in all, as you can tell, I wasn't disappointed. I didn't feel drawn into the tender embrace of luxury, but it doesn't make sense to anticipate the comfort of a Lexus from a Honda Civic. You get what you pay for and I was willing to be understanding. I figured the least I could do was give it a chance. Besides, if I'd wanted a "Lexus" in the bedroom, I'd have had to repaint to make it feel at home and all I needed was a better night's sleep.
(Home on the Range, words by Brewster M. Higley, music by Daniel E. Kelley, arranged by David Guion; Public Domain image via Wikipedia)
(Note to the reader: the photo depicts a modern Western saddle with the parts labeled rather than the older style mentioned in the text.)
Looks like you hit the nail on the head...Glad your rest is better. And I love the saddle...maybe one your Dad made?
ReplyDeleteYour two pets, well...they should be called "Snuggle Pot and Cuddle Pie." But then that's a story book. Lol
Actually, it's a diagram I got from Wikipedia. I'll have to scan a photo one of of his saddles and post it sometime. I thought about doing it for this one, but the idea of having the parts clearly identified seemed a better idea. And the pad really is working very well, I'm surprised and delighted!
ReplyDeleteYes, I liked the diagram but it would be nice to see his work. Gosh I cannot imagine making one, I wouldn't know where to begin..
ReplyDeleteEveryone is clever in some way....your gift is the pen and a genuine heart.
Crystal:
ReplyDeleteI'll post a photo in a couple of days. Making a saddle begins with a wooden tree (frame) that is covered with wet bull hide and allowed to dry. The remainder of the process is technical in some ways and a matter of practice, knowing what to do where and when to be original. It took my father years to get good and he was learning right up to the point he was too ill to work anymore. It's a craft in the same way cabinetmaking would be considered one. Some manufacturers make them on an assembly line basis, but you get what you pay for and a custom, handmade saddle done well by a master craftsman can be as much a work of art as something useful and durable. Funny thing, dad always wanted to write. :-)
I'd love to see the saddle made.
ReplyDeleteVery interesting.
Well your writing for him now. And..he is smiling.