Sunday, June 15, 2003
FOAM AND FLUFF The new
FOAM AND FLUFF
The new thing in my life is foam - and baby, foam is sweet. We got a mattress topper made out of two inches of that memory foam that they make pillows and mattresses out of. It comes vacuum packed in a big baggie, and needs to unclench for several hours before it’s ready to change your life. Then you wrestle it into its flannel case, which in turn straps neatly over the corners of your mattress. The bed now feels a bit taller and softer. But we fall asleep very quickly and very deeply on it, we sleep through the night, and we’re comfortable in pretty much any position. Kel’s work is physically hard; for a long time she couldn’t sleep on her side because of sore joints. Now she sleeps fetally and blissfully. I wake up in the morning and it’s a deep ethical struggle to convince myself to get out of bed; I go to our studio for some sun salutations and my back is limber, relaxed and strong. It cracks and pops in about a dozen places, too - for me, that’s a very good sign.
It’s easy for me to make myself feel bad for spending money on a consumer accessory. One could rightly call it undisciplined, even self-indulgent. Those arguments were persuasive and loud when we first brought the giant box home and dumped the lump - hard, convoluted, more like tempeh than bedding - onto the floor. But we are getting so much out of this product now that it’s harder for me to be critical of the decision. It’s good up here on the foam.
On an unrelated note, I received this link a few days ago from a close and beloved relative. Her message to me was “This site is beautiful! So just click below, sit back, relax and just enjoy the many wonders of our world. You can call it a little mini retreat.” I call it creepy and disturbing. Chiang Kai Shek? Budapest? Who selected these photos? Who took them? Why are they being shown to me? Is George Strait making money on this? Why or why not? Please show your work. So with all this going on in my head I really didn’t feel like I was on a “mini-retreat.” More like a strategic disengagement under heavy insulin. I guess what I’m getting at is this: I may love you dearly but if you know me at all you’ll know that I don’t want email that will “make me smile.” I want email that contains valuable and exciting information, not cloying recycled pap intended only to make me a happier person. I’m happy now, goddamn it. And enough with the smiling. It’s making me uncomfortable.
