Torture Me.

Last week I spent the night at the hospital with Celia. There was a little chair in the corner of the room the folds down into a "bed". The chair/bed is about the width of the average computer keyboard and, of course, the armrests of the chair become bedrails that prevent you from moving. As I'm lying on this super-uncomfortable torture device, all I can think of is "I have a new king-size bed at home." Being the selfish bastard that I am, I am thankful that Celia is no longer in the hospital because the thing I was sleeping on was the worst bed ever.