Last night – just as I tucked myself into bed and flipped on the TV to get my daily Mad Men fix (I’m a recent addict. Thank you, Netflix for expanding the number of instantly available options, albeit at a 100% increase in price) – my mom peeked into my room. She asked how my day was, who I had gone to dinner with, whether I had ordered a present for a friend’s upcoming wedding…and just as she was about to bid me goodnight, she nonchalantly mentioned that as of tomorrow night, she’d be mixing up the household sleeping arrangement.
She and Dad would be taking over my room (and bed), and I’d be sleeping on their infinitely more comfortable, Tempur-Pedic mattress. I looked at Mom with inquisitive eyes, knowing full well that whatever logic led to this executive decision was likely to be entirely illogical.
She explained that the master bedroom is situated in the Northwest wing of the house. And I had been relegated to Northwestern-sleeping for 30 days by the feng-shui powers that be so that I would be showered with positive qi and – you guessed it – get married. The first thing that came to my mind – the White House has “wings”; our quaint, suburban home does not. More to the point, WHAT.THE.EFF?! I have nothing against feng-shui, but was it really necessary to involve (and uproot) Dad?
Instead of voicing these misgivings, I smiled and nodded. I was game. Like I said, my parents’ mattress is the bees-knees. It does fancy shit like contour to the shape of your body. I also had a sneaking suspicion that this exercise in feng-shui isn’t going to last long – Dad can’t do without the Tennis Channel, a subscription that is only available on the TV in the master bedroom. Also, no amount of positive qi can make up for the cloud-like slumber guaranteed by a Tempur-Pedic.