I believe I can fly. Erm... surf.

I'm not going to change the name of my blog after all.

I know.

I couldn't come up with a name that I didn't hate within five minutes of thinking of it. I think I've just addicted to the feeling I get in my pants when all my synapses light up and jingle and applaud and scream, "YEAH!" It's certainly why I change my mind every 24 minutes about what graduate program to apply for, what template I want my blog to have, and whether or not I want to move to Botswana or Cleveland next week.

Instead of renaming the entire blog and possibly losing all six of my readers in the resulting confusion, I've decided instead that my tagline/subhead/explanatory whooziewhatsits will be fluid. By the way: Fluid? Wow, that is one seriously dirty-sounding word.

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Guess who fell out of bed last night? Ding ding ding! The story, because I know you want to hear it, goes like this: A few weeks ago, I got tired of the way my living room was arranged. ("What's that you say, Maxine? A piece of furniture had sat in one place in your living room for longer than a week?" By George, it's true!) I had folded out my futon for my house guest's pre-Michfest stay and, because I don't have three arms or twelve-foot-long legs, couldn't raise the back of the futon and shove the seat back into place by myself. So I'd been staring at my futon as a bed for a long time and decided one day that I'd drag the frame into my room and flop my mattress on top of it. The important part of this story is that the futon frame is a full size and my mattress is a queen size. I know, I might as well stop telling the story now.

I flopped the mattress on the frame. Of course it didn't fit. But it mostly fit and I was tired of sleeping on my mattress on the floor so I slept on my jerryrigged bed for a couple of weeks. It was like a Craftmatic adjustable bed, only pathetic and lacking in remote controls. A couple mornings, like Wednesday, I woke up with back pain because, well, I'd tried to sleep in some wholly unnatural position. Most mornings I would wake up sort of sideways on the bed, which worked well for the lying flat thing, but occasionally I'd wake up in a position similar to the one I'd fallen asleep in. Did you know the human body isn't meant to be curved into a C-shape for more than, oh, five minutes at a time? Or if you're not a member of Cirque du Soleil?

A couple mornings ago, I noticed the bed looking ... odd. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. The mattress was lower but the frame wasn't terribly out of place. Nothing was broken. It was just ... different. In an alternate dimension way, sort of like when you go to bed wearing pajamas and you wake up naked and logic says that you just took your jammies off during the night because you were hot but you're still suspicious about who exactly was in your room looking at your pootie while you slept. Yeah, like that.

So last night, I went to bed just a wee bit hesitantly. At some point, I rolled over to change positions and casually but promptly mattress-surfed to the floor. Actually, it was kind of cool. The one thing I remember clear as day was hearing myself say, "Uh oh" as my jacked-up Craftmatic days quickly came to an end. The BEST part was that the touch lamp on my desk chair bedside table came on during the brief calamity, so I stood up from the wreckage and didn't have to wildly search for a light to figure out what had happened. I got up off the floor and stood the futon frame out of the way, knowing myself well enough to realize I would probably get up later to go to the bathroom and walk directly into it, whereupon I would DEFINITELY injure myself. I reassembled the covers, flopped down on my nice, flat mattress, and went back to sleep for what was surely only 17 more minutes because hearing the alarm go off was a cruel, cruel joke. The standing futon frame mocked me from across the room. Remember me, Little Miss Serta Surfer? Sigh. The good ol' days.