The bed we make.

I can't lie to you and tell you that there's a lot going on here at My Sick Headquarters. On Saturday morning, I'll be taking delivery of a new mattress - so that's kind of exciting. I'm spending more than I wanted, but something tells me that a good night's sleep is worth a few extra bucks. I'm spending that Ebola money I've been hoarding, so I figure I may as well spend it on "durable goods" like mattresses and cameras than something like fancy restaurants and trips to nowhere. I'm funny that way.

The thought, when I started this selling frenzy was that the money would be used for something that I could use over the long term rather than something that is burned up quickly and possibly regret later. That's how my mind works, as if you needed to know.

It's a nice mattress. A Sealy pillow top, as if I know what that means. At the store, I laid down on this fancy machine that is supposed to tell me exactly what type of mattress is best for my body type. I had to answer a bunch of questions that I really didn't want to answer. "Do you have a sleeping partner?" I didn't know what the difference would be if I said "yes," other than it would have figured in two asses instead of one. And no, I didn't count the cat.

My fervent hope is that it will be so comfortable that I won't want to get up and go to work on Monday. That would make it worth the investment.

So there ya go. The exciting life of a modern single guy. Mattress delivery.

I need to get out more.