Woody, Woody, cut it out.
Please don’t make me have to shout.
Woody, Woody, go away.
Please don’t be a dick today.
Woody, Woody, that’s enough.
Please don’t bang upon my stuff.
Woody, Woody, can’t you see
That my house is not a tree?
I awoke yesterday to a strange knock – couldn’t tell if it was coming from inside or outside. Thought it might have been a neighbor doing some yard work, but the cadence wasn’t reflective of any productive human activity I could think of, and it almost sounded like it was coming from inside the wall.
I went outside to find a cheeky woodpecker perched on the decorative trim on the side of my house, banging away at the stucco. I reached down to pick up a snowball to throw at it, but when I looked back up it was gone.
I finally broke down and decided to replace my verging-on-twenty-year-old mattress to see if a new bed would help mitigate my chronic fatigue (probably in vain, but hey, it has to be better than aging time-compressed springs, right?). After waffling around for a month, I ended up ordering one of those fancy 12-inch three-layer gel memory foam types. A little wary of ordering a mattress without being able to try it first, but it was on super-sale and very well reviewed, so here’s hoping.
It was supposed to arrive on Thursday, but when it still didn’t on Friday, I gave UPS a call. Apparently they lost the package.
How do you lose a mattress?
I mean, a book or movie or something I can understand, but…
Anyway, I called the seller, and they said they’d work with UPS to try to find it, and otherwise send out a new one, which is good, but it means I’ll probably have to wait another couple weeks to maybe hopefully actually finally get a good night’s sleep for once.