Between Heaven and Hell Lies Sleep

Here's a peek into the world of what it's like to be me.

Saturday, I whored myself. After a fashion, anyway. Not something I'm proud of, but there you go.

See, sometimes one must do these things, especially if one is me. I like to think of myself as fiercely independent, and in some ways I think I succeed. And then there are those times where a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, and I did it on Saturday afternoon.

It all boils down to this - I needed a mattress. Badly. In fact, I've needed one for years, I needed one when I moved into the Poderosa lo those many years ago, and even before that. I tend to be a "one side of the bed" sleeper, and so the left side of my bed basically has an imprint of my body in it. From the old size. No matter how nicely you dress the bed, the left side still droops in a downward slope, and many's the time I've been tossing and turning and found myself perilously close to hitting the floor. And sometimes I find myself waking up in the middle of the night, there on my right side, clinging to the right edge of the bed to keep from sliding off.

Round about my birthday my folks started telling me they were going to buy me a new mattress. My folks are wonderful people, and they often do things like this. And I say things like, "Oh, please, you don't have buy me a (insert high-priced item here), I'll save up and find a way to get it." But they're kind, and have some extra money, and, well, not to put too fine a point on it, like to buy me stuff. Because I'm the "single" one. I don't have a husband or high-dollar job like their other offspring, who can go out on her lunch hour and buy not only a mattress, but a new wardrobe, a car, and book a cruise.

And to be honest, I hate this. Not that I have very kind parents who have extra money to spend, but that I can't do all those things for myself. And that I occasionally find myself in the position of taking things from the folks, which puts me back into the realm of childhood, which is how they treat me anyway, and I guess that's where all the hinkiness comes into it.

When I go to my parents' house, this is a little how it goes. I get there, and my mom offers me food. "Would you like a sandwich?" "No, Mom, I'm fine." "I have some ham, some turkey, some roast beef...." "No, Mom, I ate before I came." "I can make some tuna, or make you a hamburger patty. I think I have some soup." "No, Mom, I'm not hungry at all." "Well, I've got stuff for a salad...." And at this point I get "that tone" in my voice and normally answer in a way I regret later. Then, when it's time to go home, I get, "Why don't you stay for supper?" "No, Mom, I've got something ready for tonight." "Well, we're having roast beef and potatoes, and I can make you whatever vegetable you like." "No, Mom, that's OK." "I can make you something different if you don't want that." "Mom, really, I'm fine, I've got my own at home." "Well, you don't have to go home, why don't you just stay." "Mom, I have a house two miles away that I'd really like to be in right now where it's quiet and I can do what I damn well please and you're not always walking into whatever room I'm in just to stare at me, and I'm getting to that tricky point of Right Before The Nervous Breakdown, so please just let me go the hell home. Please." Well, I don't think I've ever said that, but it certainly runs through my mind. Every time.

So anyway. I found myself with something of a free weekend this week, and my folks decided this would be the perfect opportunity to take me out and treat me to the gift of sleep. And as much as I knew it was going to pain me to accept this gift, I had also looked deep into my heart, and my finances, and knew that with a new car, and the old car repair bill coming due (and with no check from Podmobile Inc. in my hands), that the chances of my being able to afford a mattress on my own were dwindling fast. And I said, "Everybody in the truck!" Actually I didn't say that at all. Briscoe Darling on "The Andy Griffith Show" says that. I think my exact words were "Okay." And Saturday became Mattress Day.

When I arrived at the folks' house early Saturday afternoon, my mom was pushing tuna salad. "Do you want some tuna salad before we go?" "Nope, Mom, just ate," I lied. "I just made it, it's good tuna salad." "No, couldn't hold a thing, Mom." "I can make you something else, then." "Nope. I'm just fine and perfect, yall go ahead and I'll be ready to leave when you are." I was already being too friendly, and thus feeling quite whorish right from the get-go.

It wasn't too long till they were ready to go, and we piled into podmobile2 for the trip. They asked where I wanted to go, and I picked the local furniture store, and then my mom started suggesting some other places in the next town over. I said we'd start local, and she emphasized that we could always go to some other places in the next town over. She always does this - as if I'm slow enough on the uptake that the first suggestion doesn't get through into comprehension. I backed out of the driveway and headed local.

We drove through B'field VA into the once-bigger and now-completely dead town of B'field WV. I let my Mom do her normal thing, which is read every sign on the road. Billboards, store fronts, road signs, she reads them all. Out loud. (If you don't believe this, ask Mr M, who rode all the way to New Orleans with them and heard what was on every sign throughout six states. And back.)

Finally, she read the sign out front of the local furniture store and I knew we must be there. So we all subsequently piled into the store, and headed to the mattresses. Now, this is where things became kind of fun. Or was it funny. Both, I guess.

You know, as I said above, I haven't had a new mattress in ages. And I don't know if my memory banks are low or what, but I don't really recall picking that other mattress out. But I picked this one out, baby. I laid on them all, the cheap ones, the most expensive ones, the fancy "sleep technology" ones. I'd sit on the side of the bed, lie on my back, turn over onto each side, simulating a real night's sleep - I was having a ball! But of course it was a short-lived ball. Because I'm me. Once I'd laid on them all I knew it was decision time and I had to make that tough choice. Did I take the one I really liked, or the cheapest one in the store because the folks were footing the bill. This caused me no small amount of unrest, if you'll pardon a really bad pun.

In the end I compromised, eschewing both the cheapie model and the "priced so high I wouldn't be able to sleep on it anyway" model for a nice firm mid-priced one. The saleslady said I made an excellent choice, that that was the exact same model she slept on in her own humble home, and I was torn between believing that statement and realizing that maybe I did just fall off the turnip truck, and when she started us over to her desk, I announced that this mattress was to be a gift from my parents. Because I thought they'd like that announced.

God. I'm such a whore.

After a hearty round of thanks (which I never think are enough), we headed home, and I told my folks that I'd actually be back at their pad a little later because I wanted to swim. So I pulled into the driveway to let them off, and my mom seemed to be shocked that I didn't want to come inside for a while. I explained again that I would be coming back and not to panic at the thought of being without my presence for about an hour or so. And so I went home for a bit.

And I did return to swim, after which my mother offered to include me in whatever they were getting for dinner. I politely declined, and she then named off every eating establishment in a two-state area that she would gladly be willing to go to for something for me to eat. Oh, and I guess I should interject at this point and say she did this, as she often does, while I was trying to get dressed. This woman saw my naked ass enter this world, and it apparently wasn't enough for her, because every time I drop as much as a zipper, she's there looking at me. I don't like to stand around naked, and there she is, wanting to tell me a 45-minute long story about anything under the sun any time my bare flesh sees the light of day. I have no idea where this comes from, but of all the fruity things my mother does, I daresay this could well be the fruitiest.

When the list of restuarants had run out and I couldn't hold onto the towel any longer, finally my mom said, "Well...aren't you going to stay with us?" Now, for all I make fun of my folks, and my mom in particular, the total despair with which she said this sent a poison-tipped arrow right through my heart. I don't know if spending 50 years with your chosen spouse drives you to just want anyone else there as company, or if they really miss me that much, and believe me, folks, there's not that much to miss besides which I see them almost every single day when they're in town. I was firm, though, and very nice and made several excuses about wanting to catch up on my laundry, practice the clarinet, and watch a movie. And I shielded my nakeditity and pulled on my clothes and was soon out the door.

(At this point I realize this nagging on the 'rents has been Mom-intensive. Mainly because she's worse than Dad at all this, but he has his moments. His mainly include thinking I can't do anything, as evidenced by the fact that if I take a break during my swim to, say, breathe, or adjust my goggles, he always comes outside, for if he doesn't hear me thrashing in there he's assumed I've drowned.)

Anyway, the mattress arrived yesterday. It's quite impressive - in look and feel. I was still feeling a bit rough from my Sunday sickness, so I decided right after work I'd test it by way of a quick lie-down. I woke up 2 hours later. And even with the nightly goings-on by my new neighbors (more about that in a later blog), rest last night was blissful. I slept beautifully.

The sleep of the morally bankrupt.

Betland's Olympic Update:
*We have acrowinners!
- Honorable Mention goes to Flipsycab, with her "Doing rails and smoking weed – all right!" (Ahhh, the fun times I've had....)
- Runner-up goes to Michelle, with her "Dyslexia Ruins Acro - Someone Won't Accept Reason!" (OK, someone's been paying attention.)
- And this week's winner is Mike, with the one that make me laugh out loud, "Donald Rumsfeld attacked soldiers with a rake." (I think I saw that on CNN!)
Thanks to all who played - you've all done very well.
* I promise I'm not nearly as mean as I sound sometimes. I'm really not.