And it's ours. Not my ancient 18 year old mattress that I shared with the ex and purchased when Vanessa was 10. She's now 28...Not Michael's slightly less ancient 15 year old mattress that we have been sleeping on (or at least attempting to sleep on when he's not jumping around). Both of our old mattresses we have shared with other people in our past lives. Not this mattress. This mattress was a virgin before we lay on it together. Nobody else, just us.
I find it really difficult to describe the thrill of receiving this mattress into our lives - another of our "firsts". The House that Rocks, our red leather lounges, Michael's new lawnmower, our camp stretcher, camp mattress and zip together sleeping bags are all other "firsts". So is the teal blue green Volvo named Ziggy with 250 000 kilometres on the clock. He may be middle aged, but he's ours. And he can go at 135 kilometres an hour with ease. I've proved that. That's why we have "No hat drivers in this vehicle" on his boot window. Our neighbouring town, York, has its share of hat drivers. Who drive excruciatingly slow. And Volvo drivers generally get a bad rap and Volvo hat wearing drivers get an even worse rap. I am out to raise the profile of our Volvo as a speed demon love machine.
Every morning we wake up in our saffron coloured bedroom looking at our fantastic, gnarly, rough barked eucalyptus tree. One of the first things we did was take down most of the revolting dirty curtains in our house. We live on a 4000 square metre corner block and both roads that edge our property are cul de sacs. So very few people come down our street. Hence we have no curtains on all our north facing windows, which include our bedroom. Vanessa once asked me, "But Mum, what if someone comes down the street and sees you with no clothes?" My response to her genuine concern was "Vanessa, if they see me, they will run...!"
Our bedroom was the first room we painted in our dinky little doer upper. We'd bought the house for its potential and its location, certainly not its looks. Our bedroom's former life had been as a pale pink abomination with green trim. OMG. And the previous owners had not opened the windows much, because when I did, the pane fell out!!! As Michael and his mate Garry attacked the makeover of the bedroom - screwing the walls to the batons and then sealing the walls so the paint wouldn't flake off - my beloved man was apprehensive about the colour I'd chosen. I asked him to trust me, and God love him, he did.
We ended up with a bedroom straight out of Marrakesh. Our bedroom glows at night, a warm, rich, earthy orange red. We love our bedroom. We go to bed at night, often holding hands. And we wake up in the morning, regardless of our sleep, in our bed with its new beautiful mattress, so lucky to be alive and with each other.
Our bedroom in our dinky little doer upper - before and after
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