jr conlin's ink stained banana

Ok, so after 20 years and close to 6,000 miles, my wife's bed died last night.

Well, not the mattress, that's only a few years old. The box spring is only a year or two older. No, i'm talking the frame, which, at about Grrflprmmrmmbl O'Clock lost it's battle with gravity for the second time. (Yes, i need to lose a few pounds, but no, not that many.)

The funny things is that it was one of those four poster jobbies that were apparently all the rage in Virginia beach in the early 80's, and while it saw us through some rough times and some rather good times (no, that's not what broke it either), i'm actually not terribly sad to see it go. In fact, i'm kind of looking forward to this weekend when i get to introduce it to a vast assortment of destructive items i'll be using to fit it into a 20 Gallon curbside dustbin.

It was a bit disconcerting to go from human to Minbari sleeping habits in the wee hours of the morning, but aside from some persistent dreams of sliding down hills and rapid deceleration, but i do look forward to bustin' up me some bed frame.

Hey, 20 years for this isn't great, but it's not bad either. It's beyond repair or reclamation because it was cheaply built to begin with. So yeah, it's landfill.