I have this unusual antique bed that I acquired when I lived in an old whorehouse in Boulder, Colorado. Well, it wasn’t a whorehouse by the time I lived there, but had a storied history from the Silver Rush days. This Madame’s bed is disguised as a piece of furniture serving an entirely other purpose. It appears as a wardrobe with a big round beveled glass mirror, carvings, turnings, and inlaid panels of birdseye maple and burled walnut. One just has to pull on one of the turnings and the mirrored front floats down from the ornate frame, becoming the bed. Nine sixty-pound weights make this conversion facile. Some would call it a Murphy bed, but it is way too fancy for that. It was a smile in college to come home from a date and let him wonder where I slept.
It is an odd bed with an odd-size mattress requirement. The original mattress was straw in ticking, and a series of ill-fitting mattresses have since populated this relic. For the last several years, I’ve had a Tempur-Pedic in it, which actually fits. Now to the actual point of this thread: Sleeping on the Tempur-Pedic is like being dropped from a height onto a pad of setting concrete. As one sinks slowly into one’s own fractured impression, one looses consciousness. Most nights I do not stir from the initial crash position one iota. This provides a good sleep, despite the initial concussion.