This weekend definitely goes down as one of the most relaxing I have had in recent history. No booze, zero going out (except for a daytime outing to see the tweentastic movie, Eclipse), lots of sleep and a lot of housekeeping. What made the weekend even better was that I have a new mattress, courtesy of my wonderful colleague, Kelly.
Now we’re not talking any mattress here. This is one of those foam situations where the girl in the commercial jumps on it while a vat of red wine stays unmoving on the bed. Really, I’ve been sold since those commercials but wasn’t able to buy an affordable one until Kelly said adieu to hers. While I haven’t surrounded myself with large glasses of merlot and done the lambada on my bed yet, I do think I’m sleeping better.
Something that comes with this deep slumber are more vivid dreams. For instance, last night I dreamt that Apolo Ohno and I were best friends and that someone was trying to murder him. They just couldn’t kill him, until the end when they covered him in gun powder and then lit him on fire. This part was actually really traumatizing and I woke up sweating and panicked.
But not all my dreams have been that scary. Since getting my new mattress, I have had a lot more celebs in my dreams and have really remembered them in more detail. So either the tempur-pedic is made of LSD, or I’m just sleeping deeper and dreaming bigger!
Look at how darn happy this couple is on their firm foam bed! I think I will make Craig sleep in that position from now on, complete with huge grins on our faces.
Lately, my middle name is Rip Van Winkle. I am sleeping ALL THE TIME. If I wasn’t pregnant I’d swear I was narcoleptic. Of course, I’m not complaining, I haven’t had any morning sickness and I can’t say I mind getting some ZZZs. But I just feel so darn lazy. I find that there are days when I go to bed in the same pajamas I’ve worn all day. I guess the up side is that I’m not doing as much laundry.
I’ve been using our bed as my command center. I conduct 99% of my business from under the duvet. Typing my column? In bed. Checking email? In bed. Painting my nails? In bed. Talking on the phone? In bed. If I didn’t have to pee 20 times per day I’d probably never leave (and even then, I’ve considered Depends, but decided that would be a new low). Ollie’s my little mini-sloth, in the morning he gets out of his crib to only want to hop into bed with me for storybook time. I keep a stash of cereal on my nightstand, so really, there’s no reason to leave until it’s time for lunch.
I’m sure the fact that I’m totally off of all caffeine has something to do with my sudden round-the-clock exhaustion too, but I think the majority of it is due to just a good old fashioned bun in the oven. Making another person is hard work — even if that person is no bigger than a lentil bean.
Ah, here's Ollie in our bed brushing his teeth on a pile of books. Even if he grows up to be lazy like his mother, at least I know he'll be literate with no cavities.
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