I have great friends. True. They are so good at taking care of me. 100% …I am a princess after all. Yes, you are. After much pestering from my peeps on the many “whys” I shouldn’t be sleeping on a couch, I finally gave into peer pressure and borrowed their damn air mattress last week. Totally set up for failure. As much as people may like to believe I am super high maintenance, it’s more of an OCD problem than it is hyper-involved, pretty girl pouty problem. Stay with me, I’ll explain. I borrowed an air mattress. Again. Which, one could believe was hell-worthy to begin with; but it wasn’t. It wasn’t even the beginning…
Friday I had THE WORST headache of the century. So terrible that I had my eye mask on, was drinking ginger tea to calm the nausea -caused by said headache- and just tried to sleep it off. It was absolutley debilitating. And annoying. As much as I joke, I’m anti-prescription meds, anti-over-the-counter-crap, and will just suck it up and power through it. I believe the mind is a powerful thing. And to not utilize that power would be idiotic. Yes, there are exceptions blah blah… But that doesn’t matter here. Not even a little bit. So, by late evening, the severe pounding finally dissipated enough where I could do some yoga for my migraine. You know what guys always say gets rid of a headache? Hush. We know. It was calming and helped immensely. And wasn’t perverted at all… guys. The headache didn’t go away completely, but I could feel the tension release. You know what would “release–” shut up.
Fast forward to Saturday, I had slept on this mattress for a second night. Bad idea. The first night
went well, aside from headache guy -in my head- swinging the hammer the previous 24hr period, so I continue on… This fucking mattress. This is when shit got real. It tried to smother me. I tossed and turned all night. Seriously, it tried to suffocate me. I had to lay like I fell from a ten-story building just to even out the airy part of the damn thing. Please kill me. Add to the fact I couldn’t stop sweating in my plastic hell. Drowning me in this factory-made, chemical sleeping cell. Dramatic much? Always. Listen. If I’m inhaling the weird velvet coating on this blown up pool of air fuckery, then it’s safe to suspect this bastard also tried to poison me too. I woke up with a broken neck on Saturday. Really. You’re neck is broken now… Fine, it’s not broken. But I could not move my head from side to side. Or at all. Ugh. So, my headache is gone and now my body -which spent the night fighting for it’s dear life- is now in seething pain. So, my son had to wait on me hand and foot while I’m back on my (fully paid for) couch. Laid out. In tears. All day. So, I ring the bell conveniently located next to my open sofa casket and summon for a sippy cup -made for wine- and slurp away.
DISCLAIMER: Why don’t I have a bed, you ask? Because I’m a picky bitch. I refuse to buy just “anything.” I wait to buy exactly what I want and am A-OK to go without until I find what I am looking for… plus I need another payment plan. *wink