Thursday, July 12, 2012
I will never worship Satin!
I will also never worship anything that even comes close to the texture of it. I have one main reason and here it is.
Getting divorced changes a lot of shit.
One of the biggest adjustments has been finding a place to sleep, especially while battling (again sorry for this topic two days in a row, you're tired of it and so am I, literally) insomnia. Couches, spare bedrooms, friends houses in other towns, the gutter, the men's restroom in your local park, etc., etc., etc. Nothing has seemed right.
So in an attempt to actually get some sleep, I recently purchased a new bed and actually started sleeping in my own bedroom again—(insert infantile voice here)—like a big boy!
For a dude, I like to think I have above average aesthetics. So after repainting my bedroom, hanging new drapes and getting the bed, I picked out one of the crap shoot bed-in-a-bags. Yes, I should have done the whole duvet thing and will, but for right now this is what I have to work with. Sorry people! Sorry!
After one of my friends saw my first attempt at bedding, she shamed me into returning it. Fair enough. Her argument was every single dude had this bedding. Not being one for grand strokes of mainstreamity (I'm just making up words to cover up the fact that I bought shitty bedding), I returned it and exchanged it for something else that was far superior.
On the packaging for the new bedding it said it included, "micro-fiber sheets". Interesting. I thought I was getting some kind of space-age polymer that would alter my life and cause me to become bed ridden on purpose. Thoughts of hiring Mexican servants to bring me Chinese food in bed for the rest of my life were circling my head. I shall set the world record for staying in bed the longest. I will never leave my house and have to deal with traffic. Squirrels will tap dance on my windowsill. Birds will regale me with stories of the time they were eating each other out in public...
Sorry got off topic.
After opening the bag, the space-age polymer I was hoping for felt like cheap satin. Which satin feels like cheap silk. And silk is just fucking offensive, especially in sheet form. So this is the inbred son of an inbred father of an inbred grandfather. Yeah, this shit sucks. Majorly sucks.
But without raiding the sheets off the other beds in the house, which I had just washed and remade, I had no other choice than to try out these buck-toothed, slow-witted, cross-eyed, overhaul wearing, foot for a hand version of sheets. The results?
The first night while I was sleeping, I some how cut myself on them. Not kidding. There's a blood stain. Seriously. It's as though these damn things gathered together their micro fibers, formed themselves into a knife and took a gash out of my arm.
The second night, they decided to heat up to volcanic temperatures. Sleeping in a trash bag on the sun would have been more comfortable. My dog started barking at them in the middle of the night. I think because they had once again formed a knife and were headed for my skull. (Thanks Lou!)
The third night, I honestly think I was raped. I mean prison raped. Not the kind of semi-gentle back alley, "Eh, I don't really like this but it's a Tuesday and I have nothing else going on, wait let me fight just a little, okay, he's a big dude, it's okay." rape. I mean, "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!" rape. I hurt in places I'd never hurt before.
The fourth night resulted in some calm and peace. I think they were tuckered out from raping me.
Last night was the worst, so far. Rejuvenated and running on a diet of trucker crank, Kool-Aid packets and bull testosterone injections the micro fibers got together and formulated a plan of torture that would have rival the Marquis de Sade.
It started with volcanic heat, then cooled to polar bear level chill. This made me think that at some point they had started bloodletting me. So I got another blanket. Came back to the bedroom and the dog was digging at them like there was a chipmunk burrowing in my mattress.
After getting the dog calmed down from a foaming lather and the blanket on the bed, not 10 minutes into a deep sleep and we're back to volcanic levels of heat. Then, this is where things get dicey. The micro fibers unleashed a smell of plastic on fire. Not melting, but on fire. Which got into my nostrils. Which I then think altered my dreams for the rest of the night.
My dreams became violent, most of them focused on me getting the shit kicked out of me. One was me being trampled by horses. Another featured me in a void with a watermelon who only spoke Portuguese.
I awoke this morning with the undersheet wrapped around my fist and a pillow on my ass. The dog had also gotten up and was sleeping on her bench in the living room, which never happens.
I don't know what this all means but come payday, I'm tossing these fuckers in the river with a bag of cement and buying some 800-thread count cotton sheets.
Never buy micro fiber sheets. Never worship Satin.