William Randolph Shakespeare once wrote in one of his plays, and I'm paraphrasing, "love doth be poison."

I bought a new mattress earlier this week and I took today off of work so I could be home for the delivery. What, it's not like they can leave it on the front porch and I can drag it up the stairs myself! I'm short and not very strong and mattresses are strange, unwieldy creatures. Luckily, when the guys came to deliver it they took my old mattress and box spring but, as my mom instructed me, I did not tell them that Phoebe had previously used the mattress for a toilet. They can figure that out on their own, you know, if they smell one side of it. It's gross, is what I'm saying, but no longer my problem. Oh. SNAP.

I was just reading the Do's and Dont's on the back of my warranty brochure. I mean, most of it is common sense, like don't light a fire near your bed and don't let dirty, little children pee on it. I don't have children, dirty or otherwise, and I hardly ever light fires in the house anymore, so I think I'm safe. My favorite, though? "Don't let anyone stand or jump on your mattress. It was not built for that kind of weight concentration or abuse." Probably I should have read that part sooner.

Since I had the rest of the day off, I've been pretty bored. I did a load of laundry, went to the ATM OK FINE and also to New York & Co, watched two episodes of House, drank half a pot of coffee, and now I'm in the middle of packing for Chicago. It's a long process. Anyway, here is what my bed looks like now:

It looked a lot better before I threw all that shit all over it. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

PS: You may ask yourself just how many pairs of black shoes one person needs to take on a two day trip to Chicago. The answer is: at least four, maybe more. It's easy to remember because it rhymes. FYI.