“They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains,” he remarked with a smile.
– Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, A Study in Scarlet
I must be a freaking genius because I am a hobbled-up woman this morning. My head and neck feel as if they are made from broken glass. Most concerning is the ticklish feeling I am getting around the corners of my eyes. It might be a migraine in the making. Might not. Not taking any chances, either way. I’ve swallowed a handful of Advil and Excedrine. We’ll see who laughs last, headache.
Oh, for a bed that didn’t cause this sort of misery!
Our bed is a ten year old pillow top. At the time of purchase, it was very nice. However, neither of us weighs the same as a fairy’s fart – so the coils have all been mashed down into a huge divot1 in the center.
Personally, I would love one of those Tempur-Pedics. The kind where your sleeping partner can land the fucking shuttle on the bed and not upset a glass of wine, much less disturb your snoozing self. Unfortunately, those things cost more than I can afford at this time. Maybe at any time. I’ve seen cars go for less. Ah, me. Maybe when I am rich famous2?
1 – To get the proper emotion behind that sentence, say it like the father from So I Married an Axe Murderer. The bit where he’s talking about Heed and his huge pillow.
2 – *snerk*giggle*
The Process 
Your mattress crater reminds me of my grandparents’ bed–only theirs looked more like a landslide than a nice symmetrical crater. She was 5’7″ and weighed somewhere north of two hundred pounds. He was 5’5″ and barely cracked triple digits fully dressed, soaking wet, immediately after dinner. Their (forty year old) mattress was visibly slanted even when no one was on it.
PS–“Fairy’s fart!” I’m easily amused–thanks for the giggle.
My folks were the exact opposite: Dad was probably 300+ pounds all during my teen/early adulthood. Mom was 98 pounds, sopping wet with rocks in her pockets.
Mister Man is a big guy, too. Not Dad-sized but densely muscled* and tall. When he gets into bed, the whole thing shakes like we’re in 1906 San Francisco. On a bridge.
I had a boyfriend who sold mattresses for a living – like, mighty fine mattresses. He always said mattresses were an investment in your overall health. I spit my drink out all over him when he told me his bed was a $10,000 investment.
Because I sleep on a bed that was a free hand-me-down lol. I guess there’s a reason why we broke up.
*nod*
That would be the same price range as the one I
lust overwould very much like to buy.I mean, I would like to invest in it but y’know..food. Utilities. College. Cat vet bills.
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Sleepys