My new bed has broken me. It’s so freakin’ fantabulous, that all other beds are now The Suck. I’m at the house, packing, and the bed I previously considered to be so comfy is now a box of rocks. The many layers of padding I have added to it, trying to simulate Pillow Top are flat and unflufffilling. They probably need to be flipped and manually poofed up, there is a definite dip in the middle of the bed, where I sleep. And that’s the other thing, I couldn’t even begin to get comfortable until I moved to the previously untouched Edge Of The Bed. Because that’s where I sleep now. I sleep on the right side of the bed. Wil sleeps on the left and part of the right. Sometimes, Pru sleeps on the far right side of the bed, and I am left with a thin strip of bed between the two. (Momo sleeps pretty much on me, or Wil, when she sleeps on the bed. After 4 am, she prefers to just jump up and down on my ass, however. )

So last night, it’s 3 am and I am still not asleep, even though I am pretending I am in my new bed, by sleeping on the edge of the bed. The parts of Wil and both cats was played by Pru, who managed to stretch her body across the rest of the bed, and somehow steal most of the covers. But it’s not the same. She’s cute, but she lacks of the manly arms for snuggling. And that Sleep Number bed is THE BOMB.

When we first tried it out, Wil said his Sleep Number would be 100, because he is a man. I declared my Sleep Number to be 35. Wil said 35 was for pussies, but I told him that 35 was TV’s Bionic Woman, Lindsey Wagner’s Sleep Number and I’d like to see him say that to her FACE. Her bionic face. But, after sleeping on it for a while, Wil has decided that real men like squishy. He will sometimes deflate down to 20 or less, effectively creating a nest, or bowl, of smooshy cushiness. He likes the feeling of sinking in, I can always tell when he’s doing it, because he becomes lower than me. I find that I like it about 35 to 45, depending on how I like to sleep. We usually default at 45 and adjust accordingly. And when Wil gets up for work, I will roll over into the Mattress Bowl and sleep there for while. Although, it’s much easier to get out of bed, if you firm it up a bit before attempting it. I find it impossible to leave the warm, soft Mattress Bowl.

Maybe Pru is a bit neurotic. I fear that trait is only exacerbated by the move. Momo is handling things better. She’s known me for a long time. Got to know me slowly, in her own territory. And is not an antisocial freak to begin with, unlike sensitive, twitchy Pru. She’s adjusting. Slowly. But she’s moodier than normal. And has a short span of tolerance for anyone but me.

Wm: Honey, can you come get your cat?

Jodi: What is she doing?

Wm: She’s sitting next to the toilet. She won’t let me go to the bathroom.

Jodi: Did she hiss at you?

Wm: Yes. See?

Jodi: Pru? What is your problem. Oh, look… she threw up. Well, there you go. It makes perfect sense. You can’t use the bathroom. SHE is using it. To barf.