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A friend is moving to the area and needed a bed so I’ve been combing Craigslist for a reasonably priced queen-sized bed set and tonight found one. The dealings went down via text message and at 8:00 he asked when I’d pick it up, I said after 9:00 and around 7:30 I began a round of Mann vs. Machine which took me until 8:50. Then, rather than shower, I decided to bullshit in Teamspeak until I was nearly late, threw on my non-exercise clothing and gunned it to Horsham to pick up the set.

I had been walking quickly and sweating quite a bit so there was an immediate sweat stain on my shorts where my the sweating was strongest, i.e. my crotch and it looked like I had wet myself. I parallel parked my dad’s truck and was met by the man selling the pieces who was a special type of plastered.

Me: So why are you selling this stuff?
Him: Lost my job.
Me: What did you do?
Him: Warehouse work. Until they brought in these… Asians do the job as contractors.
Me: I’m sorry to hear that.
Him: You know, everything’s going that way.
Me: What way?
Him: Contractors.
Me: Yep. If it makes you feel better about selling this for 25% its original price, I’m unemployed.
Him: It does. What’s your name?
Me: Terry.
Him: I’m George. If you ever need anything, call me. You seem like a good guy and I’m glad to have you as a brother. You should take this end table, I want you to have it.
Me: Sure…

This man was profoundly white.

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Full Mattress – Girl in Sellersville – Free
Box Spring and Frame – Couple near Villanova – $40
Pillow and Blanket – Already Owned
Pillow Top Mattress Cover and Fitted Sheet – $32

I got my new bed parts in today and was going to assemble everything before I faceplanted for the evening.  I put up the frame, put on the box spring, put on the mattress, added the topper and sheet, and was incapable of going across my room.  The full mattress is 53″ wide leaving me 9″ between my bureau and bed.  The mattress is 2 inches wider than the space between my treadmill and the wall.  Time for some engineering.  Solutions:

  1. Lift up deck of treadmill.  Too much work.
  2. Go back to old bed.  NO.
  3. Get bed frame form Ikea.  No money.
  4. Construct custom bed frame using old textbooks and and a wood plank as an elevating offset that will kill me if I roll the bed off of it.  Done.

I like my new bed.

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I was sent home yesterday by one of the camp’s august medical experts after having shat in multiples of 5 for the last few days.  All was well, I thought, until I returned to camp, had a sandwich whereas a four hour count-down began to colonic destruction.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind being sent home, except for I have no bed (it’s at camp), no air conditioning (we’re cheap), and no amazing computer (it’s at camp).  I arrived at home, scared the shit out of my brothe’s friend in the garage, and was promptly visited by my mother who didn’t otherwise know I was home.  At this point, I was sweating over a bowl of hot soup, using my laptop, while my mother kept talking about her damn new house.  I really wanted to go back to camp.

Later, after my mother had asked me to see her tree fort (as I call her new house) two dozen times I went to play Team Fortress 2, thinking my brother’s computer would do.  22 inches on a dual core is nothing compared to 30 inches on a quad core.  I really wanted to go back to camp.  My dad arrived later, said hello, and I rolled my eyes when he proposed we have a quality family meal…. from Taco Bell.  I figured if I was going to shit like a firehose I should at least have an excuse.  He then asked me if I would be home for a day or so.  I said yes, and he told me to mow the lawn.  I really wanted to go back to camp.

I went to bed last night in my room that was covered in stuff that had been put there thinking I wouldn’t be back for a month or so, and cleared space for an air matress.  I did, and it leaked, from like four different spots.  I figure I’d try it and woke up 90 minutes later to a scene that looked like a bad rip off of “Death Bed, the Bed that Eats People” as I sink into the vinyl chasm.  I repeat the re-inflation/absorption cycle a 1/2 dozen times before my brother pokes in, says “the bed has a hole in it” and tells me to pick up a package for him in Langhorne.   I really want to go back to camp.

If I have to fake health with enough Imodium to constipate a sperm whale, by God, I will.

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I was sent home yesterday by one of the camp’s august medical experts after having shat in multiples of 5 for the last few days.  All was well, I thought, until I returned to camp, had a sandwich whereas a four hour count-down began to colonic destruction.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind being sent home, except for I have no bed (it’s at camp), no air conditioning (we’re cheap), and no amazing computer (it’s at camp).  I arrived at home, scared the shit out of my brothe’s friend in the garage, and was promptly visited by my mother who didn’t otherwise know I was home.  At this point, I was sweating over a bowl of hot soup, using my laptop, while my mother kept talking about her damn new house.  I really wanted to go back to camp.

Later, after my mother had asked me to see her tree fort (as I call her new house) two dozen times I went to play Team Fortress 2, thinking my brother’s computer would do.  22 inches on a dual core is nothing compared to 30 inches on a quad core.  I really wanted to go back to camp.  My dad arrived later, said hello, and I rolled my eyes when he proposed we have a quality family meal…. from Taco Bell.  I figured if I was going to shit like a firehose I should at least have an excuse.  He then asked me if I would be home for a day or so.  I said yes, and he told me to mow the lawn.  I really wanted to go back to camp.

I went to bed last night in my room that was covered in stuff that had been put there thinking I wouldn’t be back for a month or so, and cleared space for an air matress.  I did, and it leaked, from like four different spots.  I figure I’d try it and woke up 90 minutes later to a scene that looked like a bad rip off of “Death Bed, the Bed that Eats People” as I sink into the vinyl chasm.  I repeat the re-inflation/absorption cycle a 1/2 dozen times before my brother pokes in, says “the bed has a hole in it” and tells me to pick up a package for him in Langhorne.   I really want to go back to camp.

If I have to fake health with enough Imodium to constipate a sperm whale, by God, I will.