A new friend’s favorite room: The bedroom in my friend’s house

My friend, a mother of four, had recently moved to a new apartment.

She was excited about the change and wanted to share her space with a friend.

She called up the local furniture store to get an idea of what kind of furniture they had.

I was curious.

“I have a couple of old bedsteads, a sofa, a couple chairs, a few dressers and so on,” she said.

“And I think it’s the same kind of thing that you see at the supermarket.

The furniture is just a little bit different.”

And it was.

“The furniture was a little different,” she added.

“It was a bit different because it wasn’t from the supermarket.”

A few weeks later, she called me back to ask for my help in identifying the furniture.

She had made a mistake.

“There was an old mattress that had a sofa,” she explained.

“She bought it for her boyfriend.

He doesn’t even know that I bought it.

She said she used it as a bed.”

She told me she hadn’t been using the bed in the bedroom for a while and was having some health problems.

“But then I started to have a few more health problems,” she told me.

She didn’t know how many years it had been in use, but it was quite possibly 30.

“My boyfriend started to tell me to go and buy some more,” she continued.

“So I called my boyfriend.

We had to pay for it.”

She said that he gave her some money to buy a new mattress.

The mattress was only for her husband, who she said “couldn’t sleep”.

I was interested, but I was not sure whether the furniture was the same type as the old one or whether it was different.

So I called the store.

I said, “What do you think?

If this is the same mattress, is it from the store?”

The manager was a very friendly guy and said, yes, it was from the warehouse.

“Is this a bed?”

I asked.

“No,” he said.

And he told me the price, which was about $1,300.

“That’s too expensive,” I said.

I also called the local police.

They were on the way to the apartment to take a look.

“Yes, it’s from the warehouses,” they told me when they arrived.

“What’s the condition?”

I told them.

“This is a bed,” they replied.

“Why would it have to be new?”

I replied.

I knew I had to do something about it.

I called Aditya Gupta, who was then the general manager of the furniture store, and he took the bed for me.

“We’ll be able to determine the type of mattress,” he told my friend.

“You should go and have a look at it.

You’ll find it is different,” he added.

I gave him my number and he drove to the warehouse to have the mattress checked out.

I asked Gupta what the price was for the mattress.

“Don’t worry, the mattress is only for you and you’ll be responsible for it,” he replied.

So that’s what I did.

“He took me to the kitchen and checked out the mattress,” she recalled.

“Then he gave me the mattress back and told me that he would pay for the rest of the mattress if I could give him my credit card details,” she wrote in her diary.

I agreed to pay him $1.25 for each mattress.

I didn’t expect much, but what I had done was save the apartment for my friend and she was grateful.

“If it wasn`t for you, I wouldn’t have got a mattress,” I wrote in my diary.

“Thank you, thank you, Thank you.”