The king-sized bed is such a scam. Twelve people should not be able to slumber comfortably side-by-side in the same piece of furniture. Yes, people have far more girth and far less sophistication than they used to, but loves, if you stick your leg out and can’t feel body heat, that thing is TOO big.
While driving home after last weekend’s fabulous fête in Paris, Pepito and I stopped in Nyons for some olives, because I wanted them and I get what I want. They have the best olives in all the world, and it’s worth the detour. I ducked into Fert Nathalie, just to take a peak, and ran across THIS prom queen leaning against a cabinet of antique books. Sold, sir. The curves and ball finials are more seductive than Marilyn Monroe and I know seduction.
When this is where you go to have happy sack time, you don’t get out of bed until 6:00 p.m. I know, because I’m just now rolling out of the thing. The best part? It fits TWO people, which is one person more than a sad evening with a body pillow and one person less than a fantastic time with friends. Actually, my torero and I fit perfectly together, so it’s working out beautifully.