Whatever

by Michel Houellebecq

The news of his death didn’t really surprise anyone in the Assemblée Nationale; he was mainly known there for the problems he was encountering in buying himself a bed. He’d decided on the purchase months before; but the realization of his project was proving impossible. The tale was usually told with a faint ironic smile; yet there was nothing to laugh about; these days the purchase of a bed does present enormous difficulties, enough to drive you to suicide. To begin with delivery has to be arranged, and then usually half a day taken off work, with all the problems that entails. Sometimes the delivery men don’t come, or maybe they don’t manage to get the bed up the stairs and you are obliged to ask for another half-day off. These problems recur for all furniture and domestic appliances, and the accumulation of difficulties resulting from this can already be enough to seriously unhinge a sensitive person.