Daily Archives: February 21, 2011

mattress-buying adventure, part two!

I’d best pee myself with excitement now, because in a few days doing so will void the warranty on my BRAND NEW MATTRESS!

Just some quick observations, because my head is swimming with all the stuff I need to do to, you know, make room for the damn thing:

1. I thought that going mattress shopping after working on my feet for six hours would be stupid. False! Best idea ever! Because when will I care most about how comfy my bed is? After I’ve worked a shift twice that long. Yes!

2. I also wondered how I would know which one was “the one.” Here’s how you know: you lie down, and without thinking about it, you close your eyes and the only thought in your head is how nice it would be to take a nap, right then. Sure, I imagined myself fast asleep as I tested out the other mattresses, but when I got to The One, I immediately forgot that my back hurt (and that I was in the middle of a gigantic warehouse furniture store). For a brief moment, it was just me and the bed. Aaaaahhhh.

3. Tomorrow I begin the task of dismantling my current bed and rearranging furniture. Lord, beer me strength.

Stay tuned!


sotd 2.21.11

I had to search through my sotd archive to make sure I hadn’t featured this one yet. And I hadn’t (!!!). I’m sorry that I’ve been thus far lackadaisical about sharing this one with y’all.

One of my favorite lines of any Ben Folds song:
“I think about my friends, sometimes I wish they lived out here
But they wouldn’t dig this town.
No, they wouldn’t dig this town.”


“Alice Childress” / Ben Folds Five (1995)

*Jesus, Julie. You’re starting to sound like James Lipton. Deep breaths. Pull it back a little.**
**Except for this: listen to his voice on the very last “It’s getting late where you are” – that super-high, reachy-cracky thing? I wondered about that, so I looked up a live version of this song (which he apparently doesn’t perform very often?). Anyway, it happens, and it’s good, but not the same. What a great moment in studio recording.