When guest beds attack
Hope you all had a great holiday! And by "great," I mean "not fraught with family-visiting angst." Yes, ‘twas the season for relatives-hopping, surviving others' lives and homes with all their quirks and peccadilloes. If you live in the same state as Mom&Dad/Gran&Gramps/AuntMindy&WeirdBachelorCousinTed, you were able to drive over for dinner/gifting and head back home. But for those making a long trip, you surrendered yourself to the harrowing experience of...
The Guest Bed.
Guest beds speak volumes about the host. You wouldn't even have to meet my mother to know that she's fun, loving and eccentric; all you need do is sleep a night wrapped in her myriad mismatched blankets and giant pillows emblazoned with peace signs and Chicago White Sox logos. You would know that my sister works sixty-hour weeks and has a preteen daughter by the One Direction sheets that are still warm from being yanked out of the dryer moments before the guests arrive. And you would know that my cousin aspires to the Plaza by the mint on the pillow. A freakin' mint, y'all.
And then...there's my husband's family.
The first time I lay down on a bed in my mother-in-law's home, I felt like a sandwich being wrapped for someone's lunch, the crackling and crunching sounds were so loud. I yanked up the corner of the fitted sheet to reveal a plastic liner over the mattress, something I hadn't seen since 1972 when my little sister was struggling with bedwetting. After one night of tossing and turning on Saran Wrap, I stripped the bed like a wild sleepless animal and hid the offending plastic in a closet. At the time, I had no idea that PVC-love ran in the family. Until our recent Christmas trip to my brother-in-law's.
My BIL has a huge gorgeous house with a guest bedroom fit for a Queen. I excitedly put on my comfiest jammies, removed the nineteen silk throw pillows, slipped between the 1000 thread count sheets and--
Aghast, I pulled up the corner of the sheet to find the thickest slab of plastic I'd ever seen. And BIL was dead serious about protecting his possessions from offending bodily fluids-this was not a liner that one could confiscate in a sleepless rage, it was a solid synthetic swathe that encased the entire mattress like an ugly petrochemical womb.
Exhausted and beaten, I lay down on my cacophonous bier. Every time I moved, or even breathed, it sounded like I was snoozing in one of those SunChips biodegradable bags. Despairing, I looked over at my husband, flat out on the poisonous polyethylene, snoring away like a babe. Them's his people, after all.
I sincerely hope you all had a wonderful holiday and just remember, the season of love and forgiveness includes forgiveness for pull-out couches, inflatable mattresses, folding ottomans, sleeping bags and yes, even guest beds that sound like you're sleeping in a trash bag stuffed with dead leaves, pork rinds and bubble wrap. *yawn*