Bedtime stories

So I sold my bed today...my very first big boy bed. I was quite sad to see it go. The girl who bought it must've been pretty desperate...she came to look at it this afternoon and then wanted to take it home right then and there. Talk about a quick sale. It's kinda creepy because the sounds create echoes in my room now.

The buyer recently spent a year living in Vienna, correctly identified Michael Buble on my closet door and actually quoted lines from "American Life" in conversation (proving that she's not just one of those "I-own-the-Immaculate-Collection-therefore-I-think-I-am-a-legitimate-Madonna-fan" phonies) so I can safely say I think my bed is in good hands.

Thankfully she didn't check for samples of my DNA on the mattress. I suppose that's the problem with buying a used mattress. It's been, um, used.

So I'm camping out on the futon for the rest of the month.