I demand that everything conforms to my ass.

We spent today looking for a new bed as my vintage 2004 Ikea is starting to pop springs and frankly no one wants a spring up their ass while they try to sleep. I have been sleeping like shit lately, tossing and turning because the bed makes my whole body ache, trying to find a position that’s slightly comfortable for a short while, and an hour later, I’m up and flipping around again.

Our new bed journey started at Sleep Number, to figure out what we were looking for in terms of firmness level–we’re a 35 and a 45, respectively, so we both want something more on the plush side. The Sleep Number guy really tried to get us to take the plunge today, but we wanted to go try some other beds and see how we liked them. This decision would be much easier if we were allowed to determine maximum comfort levels by taking off our pants, but as it turns out, that’s something that’s frowned upon in most retail establishments.

After flipping in and out of about fifty beds, we found one at Sleep Country that was just about perfect. I ended up laying half on the bed and half on Jason and moaned “Oh god, I’m so comfortable, I think I’m gonna drool.”

“You just go ahead and drool, baby.”

It’s not a project unless toxic chemicals are involved.

I just spent an hour at home depot talking with an employee about refinishing the desk I bought a long time ago with intentions of refinishing. Eventually in the new place I’d like to use it as a makeup vanity instead of a computer desk because it could amply store my buttloads of makeup and be less awkward to use than the dresser I’ve been using. Since I’ve got a ton of free time now, what better time to do some of the projects I’d been putting off, right?

I brought in one of the drawers so he could determine what wood it was made from, and brought photos of the damaged areas to best determine how to go about fixing them–apparently I got the score of the century when I bought it as I got it dirt cheap and it’s oak which is a spendier hardwood. The employee mentioned liking the hardware on the desk and I scoffed, saying I wanted to replace it, but apparently I can sell the hardware for something like thirty bucks a pop on craigslist because you can’t get hardware like it anymore. If that’s true, I’ll be glad to sell it instead of just chucking it like I’d intended. I don’t think what’s on there now will go with the ebony finish I’m applying, and I’m thinking I’d like something a little more modern on there regardless. Or awesome. Like bird skulls.

So over the next couple of days, I’m going to be sanding and staining–and, apparently, if I don’t use proper ventilation, according to the home depot employee, I’ll also be “talking to Elvis”. It’s nice to have projects to work on! And maybe I’ll get some sandwich-making tips from the King.

Romance is when you BOTH eat too much garlic.

I cooked dinner for Jason and I tonight for Valentine’s Day–gyro, onion, and red pepper pizza with a spicy garlic white sauce, garlic rolls, red wine, and finished with tiny cheesecakes from The Confectional–you know, low carb–and let me tell you, the garlic rolls may in fact be the best thing I’ve ever, ever made. Crusty on the top, warm and soft and garlicky in the middle, and with a beautiful buttery crust on the bottom, they are a vampire-hater’s dream. My breath alone should be able to ward off the undead at this point.

They’re pretty simple, too. I’ll definitely be making them again.