h a l f b a k e r yNormal isn't your first language, is it?
add, search, annotate, link, view, overview, recent, by name, random
news, help, about, links, report a problem
browse anonymously,
or get an account
and write.
register,
|
|
|
Whilst slumbering in the gentle lulls between violent stabs of the sleep button on my alarm clock this morning, I found myself slowly piecing together the following idea…
Imagine a bed that’s plumbed into your home. The mattress is a soft and spongy honeycomb-like affair that affords unparalleled
comfort and support, but also offers excellent drainage possibilities. The cosy toasty warm duvet terminates somewhere beyond your tootsies in a small hose-like attachment that connects with the base of your bed. The hose inside the duvet branches off into a series of unrealistic optic-fibre-esque tubes that snuggle in to the hopelessly snug duvet filling and permeate its entire entirety entirely.
Then, instead of a horrible, head-jangling alarm going off of a morning, at the required time the shower bed simply switches itself on, and deliciously warm water wakes you from your cocoon of sleep. The impossibly small fibre optic hoses secrete tiny drips of pleasure onto your supine body, and the hot water is then filtered through the honeycombed mattress and into the bed’s base, where the plumbing fairies presumably take care of it.
Instead of reaching for the sleep button on your alarm clock, you just reach for that little bar of soap you placed on your bed-side table the night before, and go about your usual ablutions while remaining comfortably horizontal, postponing the actual moment of leaving said bed for a few blissful minutes more.
Eventually you rise: clean, refreshed, and bright as a new pin, having combined those luxurious post-sleep slumbers with an actual wash. You’re all up and ready for a new day as you begin the usual stolid plod to work.
And while you’re at work, gentle heaters and fans in the base of the bed diligently ensure that your shower bed is all dry and warm and nice and clean and comfy for you again when you flop back into it at the end of the day.
You could probably even wee in it with impunity, should you be so inclined.
Could Be Combined With This
dissolving_20pajamas
By [egnor]. [lostdog, Feb 10 2008]
[link]
|
| |
But my clothes would get all wet. |
|
| |
I don't have any PJs. I sleep in what I wore that day. |
|
| |
I am a lazy SOB, huh? My wife must really love me. |
|
| |
Apologies for any misunderstandings, GT - I'm a bit squiffy at the moment, to be honest, and my PJs consist of me wearing my pants on my head. No offense meant. |
|
| |
What a coincidence. That's my party costume. |
|
| |
Sounds amazing. Couple it with the Radiator Man and you have a morning ritual worth waking up for. |
|
| |
Kind of negates the whole "cleaning yourself" aspect of the idea, though, UB. |
|
| |
yes, there are probably other applications for a bed which "offers excellent drainage"... |
|
| |
I was mildly indifferent to this idea until I
read that last line. Any innovation (with the
exception of a toilet) which allows you to
'wee in it', with impunity or otherwise, is
seriously flawed. |
|
| |
Not a big fan of normal showers, then? Or buckets? Or fields, for that matter? |
|
| |
I can wee in any innovation you can come up with, my friend. |
|
| |
So somewhere, in a galaxy far, far away, there's a just a gargantuan pile of lonely, mismatched socks (now slightly sodden with wee)? |
|
| |
//I can wee in any innovation you can come up with//
|
|
| |
Hello [lostdog]. Nice bed. Or shower. |
|
| |
Nice. Consider me suitably edified. |
|
| |
Warm water is comforting. I would probably awaken and lay back down until a timer turned the water off. Then I would need to reach for the soap and manually turn the water back on. |
|
| |
"I can wee in any innovation you can come up with " |
|
| |
/deliciously warm water wakes you from your cocoon of sleep./ |
|
| |
Wait, I didn't invent the shower bed yet! |
|
| |