Rocks Carlton

So as noted previously, my poor boyfriend Stefan is currently fulfilling his duty as a Swiss citizen spending a month serving in the country's military.  

It sounds like a drag and it IS a drag.

Stefan's actually a pretty good sport about the whole thing (I most certainly would NOT be - it would take me no time to find some unforeseen defect that would absolutely forbid me from taking part), but there is one aspect of the whole ordeal that it's a bit tougher for my little soldier: the sleeping arrangements.

While he's yet to complain, I KNOW he's not sleeping on that flimsy, overused, probably soiled, made-for-adolescent size, petite bed.

Why, you ask? 
Well, let me tell you.
(Because that's the whole point of this post - duh!)

As you probably know by now, Stefan and I moved into together this past summer.  It's the first time either of us is living with a significant other so it has taken us both a bit of time to iron out the kinks. 
One of those such kinks was our shared bed. 

As you know from previous posts, members of the Krieg family have no problem sleeping in even the worst locations imaginable.  My mom once managed to zonk out while on a back road safari drive as our guide took us over unpaved, treacherous terrain at 60 mph. 

Stefan, on the other hand, is an extremely delicate sleeper, who could outmattress the sensitivity skills of the princess from The Princess and the Pea.

 

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Since I moved into our apartment first (while Stefan was still back bringing home the bacon in Geneva), I had to purchase myself some sort of contraption on which to sleep.  On one gorgeously warm San Francisco Sunday, I skipped into Sleep Train on VanNess, picked out the best looking (and best priced) puppy I could find, swiped my credit card, and went on my merry little way - all within 6 minutes. 

When Stefan arrived two weeks later, he lasted barely one night on my selection before requesting an upgrade.  Since I could sleep on a mat on the floor - scratch that, since I could sleep on a bare hardwood floor - I had no problem switching it up.  The two of us headed back to Sleep Train to cash in one our ONE free exchange and find our true sleep mate.

There, our lovely sales attendant - Venice - advised us to spend 5-10 minutes laying on EACH of our sides on EACH bed along the wall that matched our price range.  As I glanced across the room and counted the 7 beds awaiting our testing, I did some quick math: 7 times 10 times 2 got us to a whooping 140 minutes.  There was absolutely NO way I was lounging around on someone else's beds for the next two hours and twenty minutes with a sun calling my name outside.

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Two hours and twenty minutes later - after Venice had oo-ed and aa-ed us with her car-salesman-like selling lines - Stefan had made his selection.  Just as we were walking up to the cash register to do our paperwork he asked Venice:

"You don't happen to know the bed they have at the Ritz Carlton in Munich, do you?  I slept there once on a business trip a few years back and it was by far the best nights' sleep I've ever had.  I would do anything to have that bed."

You could see Venice's greedy eyes salivating at the perfect pitch Stefan had just fed her.

"Do. I. know. the. bed. they. have. at. the. Ritz. Carlton. in. Munich.  OF COURSE I DO!  Come right this way my love..." she chimed as she glided us across the showroom to the premier set of beds towards the front.  "Lay right down on here.  Isn't that just fabulous dipped in fabulous?"

Down we went onto what felt exactly like the 7 other beds we'd already spent hours laying on. 

"Oh yes, this is definitely it.  Oh, I love it."  Stefan cooed. 

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Venice sneakily glanced to her left and then her right finally leaning in towards us.
"Now don't tell my manager, but I happen to have this very same bed on clearance in back.  We're talking 70% off here.  This is a deal you. cannot. pass. up."

Now I love a good deal almost as much as those crazy insane women on Extreme Couponing, but 70% off was still 25% more than any other bed we were considering.  BUT I could sleep on anything.  The decision was Stefan's.

"We'll take it," he chimed as we signed the papers, swiped another credit card, and headed on our way.

That night, after our old bed had been taken away and replaced with the bed from the Ritz Carlton in Munich, we hopped in ready to experience complete and utter sleeping bliss. 

But what I hopped onto was not a bed of luxurious indulgence, it was a bed of - well - rocks.  Hold your tongue KK, I thought to myself.  I told him I could sleep on anything and I sure as hell am not admitting that's not the case now.

As he hopped on as well, I could see his face wrinkle at the onslaught of the discomfort, but he was thinking the same thing:  I made KK sit, lay and wait in that stuffy mattress showroom for an entire afternoon and this is what I picked.  I sure as hell am not admitting I don't like the bed now.

After a minute or two of awkward uncomfortableness, I chimed in with a friendly:

"Wellllllllllllllcome to ROCKS Carlton!"
to which we both broke out into cahoots laughing and rolling about on that pile of rocks.

It didn't take us very long to craft a full plan for convincing Sleep Train to let us exchange our bed - yet again - despite their black-and-white, only-TWO-exchanges policy.

A few nights later we were sleeping on a cloud - literally, the Temperpedic Cloud Supreme.

And let me tell you, there's no going back. I've become just as spoiled as my other half.

xoxo

KK