I want a waterbed.

It doesn't seem like too much to ask for.

Do they even still make those things? We used to have one in the spare bedroom when I was younger. I used to try to surf on it with a yellow and purple boogie board I got from Galveston. The cresting 'waves' of the blue and white rose bedspread gave me a fairly realistic interpretation of the real life breakers and it was my favorite past time there for awhile.

I liked to change sleeping locations as a child and some nights I would sleep in the middle bedroom on that big ol' waterbed. It was a real event in my book. I would usually pack a bag, gather together the kids (my teddy bears), and select the appropriate reading material before sealing the door to my room. (In order to simulate a realistic overnight experience it was a rule that I couldn't enter my room until the next morning. i.e. get your shit together, Jordan because there is no way you're going back into that room. You think you might want Puddles the Dog later? Then you better effing take him with you) The overnight excursions to the spare bedroom where the closest thing to a real life sleepover for me. I always loved the idea of a slumber party but when I was actually invited to a real one I would reject the invitation (thanks in part to separation anxiety and bed wetting if we really want to get down to it).

I don't really know what happened to our waterbed. My parents sold it some years ago for whatever reason and since then the spare bedroom has become a haven for my dad's miscellaneous collection of crap. It now houses 2 recliners, a vast array of mix matched paintings, a lava lamp, and an American flag (not for the sake of patriotism but for the sake of covering up holes in the wall. Why spackle and paint when you can just use the subtle size and colors of our Nation's flag to deflect from the diminutive tack holes.) It doesn't end there. Underneath piles of unopened junk mail sits makeshift milk crate side tables (because my father, ever the sensible and frugal man, will tell you that there is no need to spend hard earned money on a side table when you can turn a milk crate upside down and just throw a towel over it. That will hold your scotch just fine, buster.)

This house has gone down hill since the heyday of my youth. I don't really know why my parents have let it go. It is crying out to be repaired and just plain cleaned up for Heaven('s?) sake! I'd like to give it some well deserved attention but it doesn't really feel like my place anymore. The home that exists in my mind is not the one that stands today. And that's ok. Eventually I will be able to create my own home just for me (and maybe an additional party if they're looking to split the rent and share a lifetime or whatever). It will be clean, and cozy, and personalized by moi. I look forward to filling with my own miscellanious collection of (sentimental) crap. And maybe, if I'm lucky, there will be a waterbed in the spare room.