If my bed were Pinocchio, which it’s not, it wouldn’t yell out “I’m a real bed!” because, well, it’s not a real bed. It’s trying to be, and, I suppose in a very simple sense, it really is, but there are a few critical problems that one notices with a simple glance–a glance much like that which you’d give an uninteresting book in a dull library and not at all like the glance you’d give an oil tanker in your living room.

The first and only, and therefore most significant thing you’d notice, is this: my mattress is on the floor. That’s because, as is natural and right, gravity is keeping it there instead of letting it float around aimlessly. Also, I don’t have a bed frame. Well, I do, but it’s in a box. And it’s the wrong bed frame. I could set it up, rendering my bed situation into a better bed situation, but that’s not really what it would do. It’d make the bed situation worse, because then I’d have the wrong bed frame set up, in my room of all places. Which is not what I want, which is why it’s not set up.

So this weekend I am taking the very large box back to where it came from. I will return with what will probably be a bigger box, hopefully with the right bed frame enclosed in its interior.

Have I talked about my chair at all? I like my chair a lot. I’m sitting on it, as is pretty standard for a chair, and not anything like a standard for, say, a large venomous snake.

In case you were curious, my feet are on my mattress. It makes a nice, warm foot rest.