Erik and I have not been sleeping well. Our nights are restless and well, wretched. I have been waking up every night after exactly three hours of sleep, no matter when I went to bed, and laying there feeling excessively uncomfortable and hot and no matter how I flip and flop, I cannot find a comfortable position. Erik and I fight for the middle of our new bed because it seems like it’s somehow more comfortable than our respective sides. But last night I woke up again, three hours into my supposed REM cycle, and felt like the new bed was giving me a panic attack. Really, it was strange. The only way I could calm myself was to visualize myself as a black line on a white background in my mind. This morning I woke up just as tired as ever, and on the other side of the bed was a haggard-looking Erik. I said, “Did you sleep well?” and he said, “Nn. Did you?” and I said, “No.” Then he smacked the bed angrily and said, “We’re taking you back to your mother!” Which is the kind of thing you say when you haven’t gotten much sleep.
As much as it pains me to say it, our bed is going back to its mother. We are going to try to get something firmer, something that will help us feel rested when we wake up in the morning. So while I feel somewhat sad about this (why?) I know it’s all for the best. I keep thinking about who will end up with our bed, and if they will be able to make their own imprints in the memory foam. Only Mattress Discounters knows.
