It's a start

This right here would be my 500th post.

On the occasion of my 100th post, quite some time ago, I went all out and wrote a post dedicated to the number 100 and how it related to the post at hand.

This time, all I'll say is "it's a start."

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Because you didn't know you wanted to see it until I thought you might, here's a picture of my new bed. New starts are abounding in my life, and wee-haw, the new bed is part of them.

It's a Stearns and Foster "Plaza" bed. Some kind of gorgeous descriptor name (Plush? Elegant? Sinful?) is embedded in there, and I have to tell you that the minute I lay down on it last night my back started shouting praise to whatever deity would listen. I wouldn't be surprised if a new religion was born based solely on the new and inventive ways that the back was calling out happy noises. Gentle readers, I now have 15 inches of pleasure in my bedroom, ohyesido, and that's not even COUNTING the boxspring.

The best part is that the bed was a relative bargain, having been purchased for something like one THIRD the usual asking price. Y'all, the "floor model that's never been on the floor because there was no room for it on the floor because of new fire regulations" is a beautiful thing indeed.

I'd invite you to come on over and try it out, but my back won't hear of it. It's insanely jealous of the new bed, and does NOT want to share the ultimate in soft cushiness plus firm support of its perfect mate. For my part, I understand.

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I think I might be done moving in. Now I have to finish unpacking. And drape hanging, because the million-candlepower STREET LIGHT in fromt of my house shines right into the Things' room, illuminating it like midnight in the Artic Circle on June 21st.

(OK, that might have been a little cryptic. Let's just say that at 2 a.m., it's as bright as day in their room, and I can't have that. )

Yes, right, I know, I moved into town, sp I should expect some extra brightness; but kids, I'm here to tell you that my road is a BLOCK long, is a dead end, has 5 houses on it, and does NOT need to be lit up like the inside of an exploding firework. Nobody's OUT on my street after 9! I need a shotgun, I think. OR is it a rifle? Which one is going to put out the balefully glaring eye of my new nemesis, the Streelight?

And, more to the point, which of you is going to do it FOR me, so that I can continue on with the "new starting" thing I got going on, which, not surprisingly, does NOT involve starting to acquaint myself with the insides of the Wake County pokey? Any volunteers? Hmmm??