Family hospitality

It's now 3 weeks that I've been here in Seattle, mooching off my sister and her family.  The first two weeks I had to alternate between sleeping on the floor and the couch, depending on where the dog wanted to sleep. Usually on top of me. Spoon, a feisty Pomeranian, has a tendency to get very upset when touched in the wrong place.  So any move during my sleep could send him into a swirling, snapping, snarling mode that resembles that cartoon character, The Tasmanian Devil.  It doesn't matter what I do, though, he has officially adopted me as his best friend, chief petter, roommate and, unfortunately, bunkmate. 

I was getting pretty annoyed of sleeping poorly so I asked my sister if I could sleep on that elusive bed she spoke about in our telephone conversations before I moved up here.  About a week ago she threw me some sort of heavy comforter that she said was "the bed" and I tried to sleep on it on the floor.  I spent some cold, hard nights down there. Then a few days ago she said that I should sleep in the movie room, which has been off limits to me.  She told me that the beanbag squares were very comfortable and that I could use them as a bed.  I threw two down, put the comforter on top, and tried to situate myself.  For a while, everything was fine.  Then my body would start to sink through the "beans" and, of course, by the middle of the night, if not sooner, I'd be sleeping on the floor. Spoon was pretty happy curled up on his beanbag and coming over to sleep with or on top of me on my beanbag during the night. 

The movie room has a fridge / wine cooler that has digital temperate readings that would shine straight into my eyes which read something like 45, 50, 62.  That makes for some weird dreams.  Anyway, Spoon made some noise the other night that woke me up and as I opened my eyes I say a beastly, hairy image illuminated from behind by the fridge lights that looked like a scary character out of "Gremlins."  

Yesterday was a good day all around because I received a call from a fashion company in Los Angeles for a job interview.  Nancy got all excited and miraculously the actual bed appeared and a real room got organized.  In no more than 15 minutes I had a real mattress to sleep on situated in a part of the room without lights shining into my eyes, real sheets and covers and even a nightstand.  I guess that she hadn't wanted me to get too comfortable, which would make we want to stay longer.  Now that she thinks I'll be moving out soon I'm allowed a few luxuries. For her sake I hope I get the job.  If not, I'm not giving up the mattress. Neither is Spoon.