I Want That One
Its what you dread. I’m trapped in a store with my mother, who has taken it upon herself to buy me new bedding. I’m not sure why, my Mr Men bedding has served me well for the past eighteen years or so, but with some muttered comments about age appropriateness, we find ourselves here.
“So which ones do you like?”
“I don’t know.” “This one?”
“No, that’s the wrong size. You need a twin and that’s a king.”
“Why is it called a twin? Shouldn’t it be called a single?”
She’s asking me to make bedding choices. I’m trying to explain that I have absolutely no opinion on what my bedding looks like. I don’t even know how to have an opinion on bedding. The way I see it, if its comfortable its fine.
I spy a possible escape. The clearance section. I sneak over and find the motherlode: A bag with a full bedding set inside, in the right size and best of all, half price! I hope that I can get her with the price. If she agrees on this, we don’t have to get anything else, because everythings in the bag. Its almost too good to be true. I calmly walk over to her holding it and say, how about this one? She glances at it, and dashes my hopes for a saved afternoon. “No, that’s not enough tog. You wont be warm enough.”
I run through the possibilities in my head. She’ll want to buy me at least two pillowcases, a quilt cover, a sheet, maybe one of those stupid thing that go under the sheet to hide the bed gap… we could be here for months. And she’ll want my opinion on each item to see if I like it, as I’ve failed to make her understand that I don’t even see most of these things as necessary, and I don’t really understand what the other stuff does.
I give up. When she’s not looking I sneak over to the electronics section.