Friday, August 06, 2004

Mattress Shopping with Mom

Years ago (if you wonder why my posts usually start out with a vague impression of when something occurred, that's because my memory, she ain't what she used to be. And before you suggest I start taking gingko, let me just state that I bought a bottle of 60 pills. After a year (365 days), I opened the bottle and started counting the remaining pills. There were 50. I forgot to take something that would help my memory. I am obviously cursed), I needed to get out of a bad living situation. Long story short, I moved in with a work friend from NABABNA's arch rival, The Dark Side Bank, because she was having financial difficulty and I, Queen of the Balanced Checkbook (those who know me know this is so not true, those that don't know me, trust me, I couldn't balance a checkbook if you held a gun to my head. I know. I work in banking. It is very sad), decided I was going to help her out.

Well, it didn't work. Why not? Because she was a controlling bitch who had to have everything her own way, moved her boyfriend into the apartment so I could listen to them either fight or have sex (all the frickin' time!) and it was awful. I think the last straw was when I was checking our joint account (what the hell was I thinking?) and realized there were some ATM withdrawals I didn't recognize. I call the bank and ask the representative when and where these ATM withdrawals took place. She tells me they were made the previous day, during a time where it was impossible for either I or Shawna to make the withdrawal and conveniently located a block away from where the boyfriend works (I haven't come up with a good fake name for him yet). Obviously he has stolen money from us. I call Shawna, explain what happened and she tells me she will call him and deal with the situation.

An hour later, Shawna calls me back. The story I get is that Moron Boy (still looking for a good name) was found by someone from his past. Someone he owned money to for drugs. And said someone told Moron Boy that if he didn't pay him back, this person would have him arrested and the police would give him Shawna's car to pay him back. So Moron Boy, obviously, didn't want to have Shawna's car taken by the police and went to withdraw money from the ATM.

Are you with me here? Do you see the holes in this story?

  1. Moron Boy owed this random person money for drugs.
  2. The police would probably laugh themselves silly if the random person went to them and said "Arrest Moron Boy. He owes me money for drugs."
  3. The car was in Shawna's name. The police are not going to take Shawna's car and give it to the random person.
  4. Why didn't he call us and let us know that he was in trouble because hey, maybe we could have done something? Instead, he doesn't say a word and takes the money.

And yet, when I try to bring these holes to Shawna's attention, all I get is the cold silence. Then she says "Well, it's just impossible for me to deal with the fact that I have two roommates that are manic-depressive. I'm going to have the secret code changed on the cards." Excuse me? Listen, bitch, I may be manic-depressive (or the trendy new name bi-polar) but I have not stolen from you, technically he is not our roommate because he's "just staying with us for a little while until he gets his own place" and is not paying any rent, and, the biggest of all - my money is in that damn account. You change the secret code, I have no access to my money. He didn't just steal from you, he stole from me as well.

Anyway, being a wimp, I said nothing. Things got progressively worse. I developed a nasty illness called Irritable Bowel Syndrome (affectionately referred to as "gut rot") and missed a week of work. My mother, my beautiful, wonderful mother, comes to pick me up to take me to the doctor and asks me "What will it take to get you out of this place? I will do it." Bless her.

I ended up paying Shawna for two months of rent but moved out in a week. My Mom paid for me to move into my own apartment, took me to two estate sales and took me to Mattress Giant (does anyone think the woman in these adds is getting a little too excited about her new mattress?) to buy a new bed because I left my twin with Shawna and Moron Boy so Moron Boy's son would have someplace to sleep (Yes. She moved the son in. She thought it would help center Moron Boy and make him stop disappearing with her car and money. Hey, I got an idea. Kick his ass out and call the cops when he takes your car).

While we are wandering around looking at different mattresses and trying them out, we come across the ultimate mattress. Climb up onto the ultimate mattress, which is piled high with foam and more foam until there's not a pressure point to be found. It is on top of the box spring which could be used as a mattress itself, it is so fluffy. Mom and I lie on this bed. Every pain, every worry I have had in the past three months of living with Shawna floated away. There was no tension, no twinges, no hurt...just fluffy, fluffy mattress shaped Heaven. I turn to my Mom.

DM: Mom, please buy me this bed. I need it.

Mom: Dana, I am not buying you a $2,000 dollar bed.

DM: You've never loved me.

Yes, it was a joke. She knew it was a joke. She is the best, my Mother, and I want to thank her again for getting me out of hell. Although, if she would have bought me the bed I really wanted, I'm sure I wouldn't be having the shoulder pain I am now (and yes, Kari, I know it's probably from sleep apnea and not the mattress)...Dang her.