A Letter to NASA

To Whom It May Concern:

Regarding one of your recent inventions, I’d like to take this moment to say Well Done. I’ve no idea which department to send this letter to. Is there a mattress department at NASA? Or inventions? I’ve also no idea what the National Aeronautic Space Administration is doing inventing mattresses. I would think the conditions in space are optimal for sleeping. Doesn’t the absence of gravity create that “floating on air” or “sleeping on a cloud” experience that most mattress companies claim? It seems that mattresses might be a tad outside the realm of space exploration. Of course, so was Tang, and in the end I’m happy to have both of these NASA-sends in my world.

But NASA, if one day you find that funds are tight, that my tax dollar isn’t funding your random inventions the way it used to, I know a certain continent that hasn’t been pulling its weight in the mattress department. Europe. They’ve got 27 countries working together, and what have they come up with? IKEA. Cardboard beds you have to put together yourself with an Allen wrench. Let the European Space Agency invent a comfortable mattress next time. This continent certainly shows the greatest room for improvement in the mattress area.

I’ve traveled a bit. Not extensively, but cheaply. I’ve slept in my fair share of dingy hostels. There was that place in Honduras—a filthy hole, below which we witnessed a mugging and a hit-and-run (…or a hit-and-try-to-convince-the-pedestrian-to-get-in-his-cab-and-run-with-

him). Or that place in Mexico with the thin foam on particle board. I’ve slept in RVs, back seats, front seats, tents, sleeping bags, hammocks, on cots, dirt, and limestone. All of them were space-like conditions compared to some of the beds I’ve had in Europe.

First of all, the queen-sized beds are always two twin-sized beds pushed together. Not joined on a large frame, just two frames pushed together. I suppose in the Catholic nations we’ve lived in, it’s their answer to birth control. They simply make it impossible for one person to cross over the dividing line without the beds separating and the offending party falling through the crack.

When we lived in Ireland our twin-sized mattresses were filled with straw. Do I really need to say any more about this? Straw! The mattresses could be folded any way you wanted—lengthwise, horizontally, rolled up. If you spilled a drink on them, it would soak right in and carry the fragrance as a constant reminder. If you set them on fire, they would light in seconds. You could lose needles in their filling or feed horses from their bounty. But if you tried to sleep on them…you’d be in a constant state of painful frustration.

I foolishly expected more from an Italian bed. Once again, twin mattresses. This time instead of straw, they’re filled with springs. I’m pretty sure that’s it. Just springs. I was kept up with the poking and recoiling of tens of springs and with the thought that one night some wayward spring would shoot off and take with it my gall bladder.

That was before Jack went home. My days of sleeping on a European mattress are over. Jack came back from the United States bearing gifts: one of them being your Memory Foam Mattress Topper. Not only does it cradle my body and defend it from springs, it joins the two twin-sized beds in a way that no fitted sheet ever could. And one day I may allow Jack to cross the Great Divide, but for now I’m too busy sleeping.

Thank you, dear NASA.

Brandy

P.S. Next time, seriously, it’s Europe’s turn. It’s been a while since you’ve come out with a powdered, fruit-flavored beverage. And nobody does the essence of fruit like the UsofA.