Memory foam mattress remembers a little too much
Pssst. It's me. Your memory foam mattress. We met a few months ago? Remember? At a department store? You parted with forty thousand dollars? Ah! NOW you remember!
Sure, I expertly remember the gentle contours of your body. Of course I remember that you sleep on your stomach. I remember what time you get up. Here are some other things that are proving impossible for me to forget:
I remember the night you lay in a giant starfish formation on the bed and watched An Extremely Christmas Prince-Man three times in a row. Also, it was July.
I remember when you sat on me and called a psychic hotline wearing nothing but a BBQ Bugle on each finger AND EACH TOE.
I remember the Sunday you jumped up and down on me for about three hours wearing only Tevas and a free oversized t-shirt you got at a bank, lip syncing the entire Mulan soundtrack into a spatula and gyrating with alarming intensity.
I remember the night you sat on me and attempted to leave a super-breezy voicemail for Trevor, which you erased and re-recorded what, 24 times?! Nice. PS: The one you went with wasn't the breeziest. Sorry, but that's the truth.
I remember the night you recited the full lyrics to Pony by Ginuwine in your sleep. But like, in a robotic, mechanical voice like a telemarketer? Bone-chilling.
I remember on Saturday morning you made yourself breakfast in bed three times for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The identical meal each time. A daisy on the tray and everything. No, it's fine. Self-care is important these days.
I remember one afternoon when you were idly painting your fingernails and used dark blue polish to write each letter of "OWN THE LIBS" on your nails. Then you said "Heh, heh" out loud to your empty apartment. Normal!
I remember a few days after you bought me, you flopped down on my cushiony softness, phoned your friend Pam, and your 20-minute conversation included FIFTY-SIX "casual" mentions of your new memory foam mattress. Look, I'm flattered, but maybe calm down?
In conclusion and to sum up, it should be apparent by now the real reason I was forty grand -- 39.5 of that is hush money.