« cranky | /words/ | Red Velvet Birthday »

January 11, 2006 11:24 PM

Last Night In Bed

Hi.

Tonight is my last night in my bed. It will be replaced in the morning, under waranty 8 and a half years after purchase.

It may sounds silly, but my bed is my favorite posession. When I very first moved to California for a cheap job with a big stable company, just out of college, I thought my meager salary was an INSANE FORTUNE, so I spent a good portion of it on a fancy, hand made mattress & box spring. It was so deluxe, and I don't regret a single moment of it. I slept so well for so many years with so much pure joy just to get into bed. Damn good stuff. As with some things (ahem, like me!), the bed began to sag and show its age, causing cries of discomfort in the morning from both le & I. I struggled mightily with convincing the company to replace it as they promised, but it appears that they are filling their end of the deal. I'm hopeful for more years of nice sleeps.

So incredibly many things have happened since I bought this mattress that I am laying on *right now* for one last night of sleep, despite some pretty extenuating circumstances. I'd like to tell you nice internet people whom I have neglected in these long weeks some of them. And behold. A brief summary of my adult life with my beloved bed:

At one point, I lived with Greg in Noe Valley, and had blond hair. Before that, we lived in San Jose, in the most beautiful peaceful, nice house: it had lemon tres, apricot trees, a garage for my beauty, a 62 Lincoln Continental, that Greg & I both worked on, and towed with the Saab. I greeted my bed more than once, covered in grease.

I went to a million weddings of happy friends, in places like Sonoma for formal sit downs, in places like upstate New York, with family and stress, in last minute surprise visits, and in places like Brooklyn for friends that I love dearly, and in places with hot tubs and tents, whirlpools and rose petals. My bed didn't come along for these trips, but it was always there to welcome me home.

My bed & I lived in many suburbs, four places in San Francisco, and a perfect apartment in Brooklyn, that will forever be home to me. Linnea sits on my bed in this photo of elly as she called me on New Years Eve of 2004, when we had first re-met. Here you can see my bed in its rightful place.

I've had a few jobs that kept me out of my bed, and woke me from it. One brought me to New York, where a coworker attempted to ring in the 29th anniversary of my birth by intoxicating me to look quite a bit this silly. Actually, every job I've had, even working for myself has involved being rudely awoken by one ringtone or another from my cozy bed!

But most of all, I've learned to love, and learned what loss really means. I don't give a shit if you think it's cliched, because it's what I've experienced. I've felt true love for the first time. I've felt loss like none before. I've seen my closest friend feel all of this in one tremendous moment. Through my own eyes and those of my closest compatriots, I've seen babies grow, love blossom and shrink, two cities destroyed, and life just go on. I've learned the absolute sublime joy of loving a little furry guy and a cranky beautiful white cat. I've watched him shake his ass while preparing to pounce, and watched her cuddle softly and slowly on my thighs time after time.

I've talked and talked to people: professional and personal, about all of the things in my life, but in the end, it was always just my bed that would hold me without judgement. Without concern if I'd had too much too drink, or worked too hard, or done something wrong.

I'll miss you so much more than anyone else can understand.

And a final homage to what it should always look like.