Mattress Firm, A Cure-all For Cabin Fever.

4 years ago
Somebody help me.

I need adult interaction. 


My daughter picked up a virus and I haven’t left the house for anything other than Children’s Motrin in five days. I take that back.  I have left the house, but only to take my son to school and pick him up again. I think I’m going mad. Normally I would ignore it and send her to school anyway, but the radio active green snot running from her nose is too obvious. For those of you who are new to parenthood here’s Unwritten Parent Rule #15: 

Clear snot = Shove Kleenex into your kid’s pockets and make them go to school. 
Cloudy snot = Give you kid some Motrin, shove Kleenex into their pockets with instructions to actually use it or Santa will be too grossed out to bring them presents this year, and make them go to school.
Green snot = They must be quarantined for at least twenty four hours or the viral outbreak at their school is on you. (Trust me it’s not a good feeling, especially when you find out that their teacher has been taken down by it. Never put your kid's teacher in harms way, he/she is your greatest ally.)

I’ve got cabin fever so bad that anywhere is better than here, so this afternoon I bundled my little viral incubator up and drove down the street to Mattress Firm. I was so overcome with an overwhelming need to flee my house that I didn’t even pause to change out of my house slippers, brush my kid’s hair, or think about where I was going to go. I ended up at Mattress Firm probably because last night I watched Oprah’s Favorite Things 2012. She presented a room full of hysterical ladies a Temperpedic Cloud mattress, which made me cry. Did I mention I have cabin fever andPMS? Yea, I’m in a bad state.

I talked to the salesman, David, for thirty minutes about the difference between the Temperpedic Cloud and the Sealy Inspiration while my daughter leaped from one bed to another. David wasn’t phased one bit by the Kelly green mucus oozing out my kid’s nose, or her gymnastics. He was amazing and I imagined a super secret training center somewhere in Arizona where Mattress Firm sends all their salespeople to desensitize them to the worst imaginable kind of customer– disheveled suburban mothers.

Just when I was starting to feel almost human again– like I dohave something to contribute to adult conversation even if their only interest in me is the $3000 he might be able to talk me into shelling out for a mattress– my daughter did a roly poly move onto the (I kid you not) $6000 bed I was lying on, leaving a trail of green snot in her wake. I immediately did a ninja like move positioning myself on top it and hoped like hell that he didn’t see it. He probably did see it, but his advanced training in the Arizona desert was so comprehensive that he didn’t skip a beat. I, on the other hand, felt dirty all of a sudden and decided it was time to go. David wrote down a deal for me that includes a free mattress protector, took down my phone number and email, and told me that he looked forward to my business. Dear, kind David...I will buy my next mattress from no other.
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