My Bed Could Beat Up Your Bed

I love my bed. Who doesn't? When I was little (ok, like, a senior in high school) I would wake up in the morning and dream about what life would be like if I could take my bed to school with me. I just didn't want to leave it. Even when dad was throwing various shoes at what part of me was visible under the covers, or dumping cups of cold water down my face, I clung to staying in bed "just another five minutes". (Don't worry, dad and I are cool with each other.)

Last night, Jus's folks surprised us with one of those memory foam mattress pads.

Woah. Man.

I've never wanted to go to bed so badly in my whole life as I did yesterday. The pad is pretty thick, and our bed is kind of tall already. These two things together necessitate the person in question to take a running start, and then leaping onto the bed. Upon landing, said individual is instantly greeted by a dream-like, deliciously soft sense of comfort, and one begins to wonder if this is even reality. (Is this sounding like an info-mercial to anyone?) I went to bed at 10:45 last night. Two hours early.

Needless to say, it was tougher than usual to drag my sorry self out of bed this morning. The mattress felt as if I were in the loving arms of a dear friend that I almost couldn't bear to part with.

Alas.

At least Jus doesn't throw shoes.