Braving Beyond

When I woke up this morning, feeling the sharp ends of a thousand feathers poking directly into my cheek like some form of duck acupuncture (duckupuncture?) from my worn-out, cheap-to-begin-with down pillow, I got it in my head that I would not be able to sleep again until I had purchased a new pillow.

This happens to me sometimes. For instance, sometimes I will never be able to read another book until  I buy a Kindle cover emblazoned with the words “THUG LIFE” in fancy script, or pay another bill until I have a space-age four-color pen with ink that turns clear if you microwave it, because there have been so many situations in my life in which I found myself disappointed that microwaving my paperwork did nothing but set my journals on fire.

Point is, every once in a while, I cease to function until I buy some useless shit. I’m assuming this is a fairly common occurrence, and not a gateway to a hoarding problem so severe that cat skeletons are unearthed beneath the mounds of detritus.

So with the girls at Grandma’s, I set out to a place so exotic and outside my comfort zone that I very rarely allow myself to go there:

Bed, Bath and Beyond.

I don’t know the last time you personally went to a Bed, Bath and Beyond, but it is insanely overwhelming. I’m pretty sure some of the dazed-looking people I wandered past in search of the pillow department have been there since the location opened in the mid-9os, and have yet to extricate themselves.

And just to overload you even more, they have moved what must be considered the Beyond section right up front, so the minute you enter the store, your senses are assaulted– SMELL THIS EUCALYPTUS LINEN SPRAY! SMELL IT WHILE YOU SIT ON THIS GEL SEAT INSERT THAT IS SO KIND TO YOUR BUTTOCKS! AND WHILE YOU’RE SITTING, RUB THIS CHEESE GRATER ON YOUR FEET AND THEN INSPECT THE GROSS SHAVINGS! DO IT! DO IT NOW!

By the time I made it to the Bed section, I was in a daze, clutching some cloth placemats, a set of grapefruit wax melts, and a Matchbox-car sized cutting board that I don’t even remember picking up. And my jangled nerves were not soothed at all when I finally reached the pillow department:


Daunted, but grimly determined not to return home sans pillow, I set about the Sisyphean task of finding the right pillow for me:

  • Side sleeper
  • Medium firmness
  • Uses pillow in portrait orientation, wrapping arms around it like cuddling an armless torso
  • Mouth breather/on-again off-again drooler
  • Inexplicably heats up to 200 degrees in the middle of the night like a poorly designed oven

Surprisingly, I didn’t find any pillows whose labels expressly suited my needs, so I resorted to the age old tactic of resting my head on basically every pillow in the store, because the one thing I want more than a good night’s sleep is a raging case of lice. I’m sure I was probably freaking out the other, more experienced pillow purchasers, but at that point, I was lucky that I didn’t just give up and declare the pillow department my new bedroom.

I finally left with a pillow so fancy that it came in a foil-wrapped box, not unlike fine candies, but if fine candies were designed to offer optimum neck support. I immediately brought it home and suited it up in its new pillow case, and am anxiously counting down the hours until I can try it out. IT HAS A COOLING GEL INSERT, PEOPLE. That’s some Beyond shit right there!

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