The Science of Sleep

I finished my taxes today. It feels good to get that off my shoulders. But I decided not to amend that return. Fuck 'em. If they wanted more people to do the right thing and own up to their fiscal mistakes, they'd make that shit easier to understand. How in the hell can you have a negative income anyway? Ah well, I should be getting my refund soon. Which means I can finally spring for a new bed (no, that wasn't a pun)—something that sleeps two.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my mattress. I've had it for about 10 years now and spent nearly a third of that on it. Deep, restful sleep. There's just one problem: it's made for a single guy who doesn't think he's ever gonna get laid. Not that I expect to get laid that frequently, but once or twice a year I'm going to need something that allows two average-sized human beings to occupy the same space without actually being on top of one another.

Just a few weeks ago, on a whim, I walked into my local Sleepy's. They're the mattress professionals, in case you didn't know. Now I'd normally question the credentials of anyone who referred to themselves as a mattress professional, but the salesmen's thick European accent seemed reassuring enough, so I took him on his word. Anyway, he proceeded to tell me that sleeping on a really firm mattress, like I had been doing for the last ten years, isn't a good idea. I needed something softer—one of those weird NASA beds made out of space-age foam. I said, “Okay, you're the mattress pro. Enlighten me with your comfy wisdom.” Next stop: the Sleep to Live machine.

For those of you who aren't hip to new mattress technology, they've got computers now that can help you find something ideal for your unique body type (in my case, thin and bony). Sounds sophisticated, right? All it really means is that buying a mattress has gotten really fucking complicated. Here I was, thinking I'd just walk in with a photo of my old mattress, throw it down on the salesman's desk and say “Give me one of them.” Instead, I felt like I was being fitted for an Avatar. God, can't anything be simple anymore?

Still, you've got to hand it to the mattress professionals. They know their shit. Just like I know that having a reasonably active sex life is next to impossible when your bed is one step up from a race car. So when that refund check comes, you can be damn sure I'll be cashing it. Because the next time I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face, there's gonna be someone there smiling right next to me.