Nothing Really Mattress to Me

The night of July 4th, I went to sleep in my bed in Methuen knowing I’d be driving west in the morning and saying goodbye to my childhood bedroom for an indeterminable amount of time. I also knew I’d be saying goodbye to the simple comfort of a mattress on a regular basis for quite some time. In fact, since that night I’ve only spent a handful of nights on a real mattress.

• The first night of the road trip was spent in a bed at a Red Roof Inn in Akron (three nights before Lebron James would spark riots in its streets).
• A few nights later (the night of Lebron’s “Decision,” to be exact) I slept in a bed at a Fairfield Inn in Oklahoma City. For the next month I was either sleeping on a couch, the floor, the ground (at the Grand Canyon) or on an air mattress, prompting me to exclaim in moments of high stress, “I haven’t slept in a bed since Oklahoma City!” The most depressing phrase ever uttered.
• In August, on a trip down the coast with two friends from back east, I spent one night on a tiny guest room bed (breaking the Curse of Oklahoma City) and the next sleeping head-to-toe in a hotel bed in San Diego, which I don’t think should count.
• When one of my roommates (or should I say “When one of the people who lets me live in her house…”) went home for a weekend for a wedding, I slept two nights in her bed.
• Last Saturday night after a marathon night of video games (because I am among the very young at heart)  my friend Kyle opted to let me sleep in his king-size bed and take the couch instead of drive me home at 3 am.

And there you have it – all of my nights on a real mattress since moving exactly three months ago. In the meantime, I rest my head on a little air mattress donated to the “Kiel’s a Freeloading Piece of Shit Relief Fund.” It gets the job done. It’s like bottom shelf vodka – distilled enough. On one hand, I don’t have to sleep on the floor or a couch that isn’t long enough for my gangly legs or wide enough for my large torso every night. On the other hand, I’m developing chronic back problems. You win some, you lose some.

Six (and a half, counting San Diego) nights in three months on a real mattress. Do I get any kind of reward for this besides a hunchback when I’m an old man? I expect to have a full-time occupation very soon, and this mattress problem is presenting me with quite the quandary: When I finally begin to accrue some monetary value, what do I devote money to first? A car? How long can I last on Los Angeles’ bus system before two homeless people murder me with their scents? New clothes? God knows I can’t keep cycling through the same Methuen soccer tees once I’m going to a job consistently. A new cell phone? My Walmart Go-phone isn’t exactly a business line. A woman? Certainly a lack of funds has been a convenient excuse the last couple of years for not pursuing any potential female companions, and God knows some girls – especially in this city – won’t hesitate to burn a huge hole in a man’s wallet. Or do I bump all of these necessities down the list and make a fine posture-pedic the first white whale I need to hunt down? Imagine the wonderful thing my life will become once I’m actually comfortable enough to enter R.E.M. sleep!

We’ll see. These are all just crazy pipe dreams for now. A guy can dream, can’t he?

No seriously. I’m really asking you. It’s been a long time for me.