After sleeping on beds that weren’t my bed for two weeks while out out of the country and having some back pain (that’s normal) but nothing near the bone-smelting level I’d been experiencing prior to our trip, I now know the issue is our bed. Logically , this led to me feeling actual hate towards the bed, as if it was a human who is intentionally crushing my little bird bones into dust. So, we bought a mattress topper. From Mancini’s sleep-world.
Mancini’s is one of those places that has loud-talking car-salesmen types who are likely all named something like “Chad” or “Stan” and exude weird, old-school douchebag out of their ugly poly-blend polo-shirts while sweatily stare-smiling you into a more expensive purchase than you want to make. Or, they’re trying to ask questions I’ve already asked Alvin and myself, because I’m not about to be sold some bullshit I don’t want. I was prepared for this, because I know mattress store are hellscapes. I managed to not get bullied into buying more than what I wanted and we bought an under $400 mattress topper to be shipped to our house by this Monday. On Monday the fucker had not been delivered and I’m tired of waking up every morning feeling like a package of kale chips in the bottom of a bag filled with pickle-jars. So, we ordered one on Amazon on Tuesday, and at the moment, it’s laying on our apartment floor, uncompressing.
That may or may not have been a good Idea, seeing as I locked my cat in the closet while at my appointment today, and he may or may not shit on it/eat it/murder it.
I’ll know soon.
There’s no moral here other that Amazon is terrific and I hate mattress stores because they’re terrible.