The Shower Bed

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.