To sleep, perchance on a bed

Since June 2011, sleeping has been a sporadic affair with me having traveled from couch to bed and back again in a six-month period. But before anyone’s mind meanders too close to lurid assumptions, let me break it down:

June and July: While contracting (which is actually code for “working as an old intern”) at a marketing agency in New York City, two good friends from college were kind enough to let me stay with them rent-free in their lovely Prospect Heights apartment in Brooklyn. Anyone familiar with real estate in the Big Apple, knows that this was an enormous favor, and I’m gratefully indebted to them for life. While the couch at their apartment was not a fold-out, it was long and skinny — basically perfect for my lanky self.

August: My month subletting in Greenpoint (the farthest north point of Brooklyn that’s basically a mini Williamsburg in terms of the hipster quotient) was interesting to say the least. I won’t get into the specifics, but pot-smoking 20 hours a day in a converted box factory with no true partitions, 2 a.m. viewings of “Toddlers and Tiaras,” and  five people to one bathroom does not a happy camper make. Although I was on a bed at this residence, other factors thwarted my zzz’s.

September and 1/2 October: Leaving NYC in favor of greener (and cheaper) pastures, I continued my extended-stay houseguest routine, this time with family in Northern Virginia. Here I was able to stretch out on a surprisingly comfy pullout couch without the worry of marijuana-infused dreams and next-day munchies. While a sweet dog with the brain the size of a pea occasionally tap-danced his toenails on the hardwood floors, it was a much more serene slumber.

1/2 October through Tuesday: For the last few months, my new, spacious studio apartment has been lacking in the furniture department. Naturally, I’ve been sleeping on a self-inflating full-sized air mattress. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, but when you’re that close to the ground, you tend to crawl around a lot if say you forgot to get your cell out of your purse, or bring your water over to the bedside. I thought my air mattress was pretty posh until two friends visited for New Year’s and brought a gargantuan self-inflating beast that looks like it could double as a white-water rafting float.

Wednesday onward: After weeks of familiarizing myself with mattress emporiums, jumping on many a boxspring, and bemoaning the coast of bed sets (it feels like buying a car), I finally broke down and purchased a queen-sized Sealy mattress this week. It’s plush with a pillow-top and a Posturepedic-like (“like” being about $300 price difference) coil system. The bed is so high that almost have to jump to get on top of it — I’m also secretly afraid of falling off of it in the middle of the night.

The two of us are still getting to know each other, but I think after dating many a mattress and couch, I’ve finally found a keeper. Here’s to some shut-eye.

From low on air...

To way up there


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