Nov 29 2007
Inflation
Last night, the air mattress lay dejectedly on the hard, hardwood floor. Attempts to revive it with its allegedly rechargeable pump were futile, since the recharger itself was in need of resuscitation. When switched on, it made a low, mournful noise like a cow who has received particularly bad news. It was clear that the mattress and accessory were beyond earthly powers. It was 9:34 p.m., and the nearest Target, which closes at 10 p.m., was 11 miles away. I floored the car all the way, parked in front of the doors, and ran inside the nearly silent store.
“Mattresses?” I gasped at the first red-clad employee I saw (coincidentally, her name was Destiny, which gave me a Hotel Hell flashback. Even Hotel Hell would be better than sleeping on the floor. Well, maybe not.).
“Upstairs and at the other end of the store, in the back. Camping supplies.”
Of course.
I raced up the escalator with the speed of Letterman (would they close the store now I was actually in it? If so, I’d have the pick of the air mattresses) and found the camping supplies for girls who are camping in their houses. There were no fewer than three variations of the mattress which had literally and figuratively let me down, but I scorned them in favor of a BeautyRest Perfect Balance Pillow Top ExtraordinAIRE (get it?), which turned out to be quite comfortable, though Prolly Wolly* purple.
I foolishly allowed myself a moment (OK, the entire drive back) of smugness at having solved the mattress problem. Little did I know…
*Silly family in-joke. You don’t want to know.
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