Sleeping in the Miata

Remember to be careful of the stick shift!


Goals are not unusual. I would have to believe that almost everyone has them. At some point in life, they are either realized or realized to be unattainable and discarded for something more realistic...say, waking up just once without "Bed head." I have long since given up my goal of playing shortsop for the New York Yankees, mostly due to two factors: curve balls and Derek Jeter who is somewhat younger. Other than those things...
Anyway, one of my sweetie's goals was to buy a new bed before retiring (no, NOT retiring as in "going to bed"...retiring as in "joining her deadbeat husband on the porch sipping a cool one and talking stupid.") We've had the present one for about fifteen years, minimum, and she felt it incumbent upon her to be able to purchase something that didn't have hills and valleys in it, despite constant repositioning of the mattress. No matter how hard I tried to snuggle up, there was always that downhill roll into the depression I'd made since I put on weight (yes, I know: too much information). So, we went to the store and bought a new bed.
We were really taken by the solid foam thing from Sweden or someplace, you know, the kind that contours to your body then springs back as if you were not there, but it was a jillion dollars, and I'm not sure I'll even be around long enough to get that kind of use out of a bed. Of course, can one really put a price on comfort? yes.
We bought the moderately expensive one (in my mind, anyway), and it's to be delivered tomorrow. Lugging the old one downstairs to the basement(a.k.a. The Love Shack or the Miata was a chore, and I figured we'd better do it ahead of time since there was no way I could do it myself (she said so...emphatically). The problem was, that left us with only the full-sized bed in the guest room upstairs on which to sleep for two nights. (After a king-sized bed, anything smaller is as crowded as the circus clowns in their little car!)
At any rate, last night was spent in any of fifteen uncomfortable positions in a strange room, barely inches from each other. Now, ordinarily, I would be all about that, but one of us tends to sleep stretched out further than our kids used to elongate Stretch Armstrong...in all directions. This made for constant pokes, jabs, kicks and all-around discomfort. My suggestion that we treat this as a hotel room in San Diego (our spring break destination) was met with a derisive, "Oh great! you KNOW I don't sleep well in hotels." sigh
Today, I suggested a foam topper for this bed so it would at least be comfortable. The response? "I wasn't uncomfortable. The bed was fine; I just didn't have enough room." Not being totally bereft of intelligence, I took that as my cue to sleep in the basement for one night. BTW, the references made previously to the B-52's song and the automobile? Faithful readers will know what they mean. I won't rehash because this is already too long, and I've got the Miata warming up downstairs.
In my dreams, I will imagine my sweetie getting lonely and tiptoeing downstairs and...well, to quote Annie Lennox: "Sweet dreams are made of these."
Goodnight, sweet prince.