A quick rise — and fall

When you get in from a day on the lake, there are two things you will inevitably feel. Hunger that borders on starvation. And an all-over physical wipe out. Even if you don't ski. Even if your toe never even dips into the water. You'll feel a whole new kind of pooped.

That's how I felt Monday night. I had to talk myself into showering. Sleeping in my swimsuit was beginning to sound reasonable, too. No worries, I did shower (against my deep-rooted desires not to). Around 10:30 p.m., I slid my legs under the covers, adjusted my pillows and drifted off to a state of zen.

It's a pretty good bed. Lots of fluffy stuff to make it cozy — Baxter not included. My bed is also on risers. I like for my legs to dangle when I swing them out in the morning. Plus, older homes don't have much closet space — at least not in my portion of the estate. I have tons of books, journals, photos, etc., and the only storage spot is under my bed. So, risers, much like these pictured below.

Around midnight, in a deep state of sleep, my bed collapsed underneath me. It's bad enough to be startled from your sleep by a loud noise. But the noise combined with the fact that I was physically falling scared the living (insert expletive here) out of me.

I took a few deep breaths and rubbed the sleep from my eyes to realize the riser right behind my head had given way. Now what? My two options were: a.) clear out everything from underneath the bed and remove the other three risers. b.) sleep lopsided.

It was after midnight and in my dazed condition, option "B" sounded more reasonable. There wasn't much sleep going on. Mostly just holding on and hoping I didn't roll down the incline and onto the floor.

I bought new risers yesterday, but I've yet to completely relax in my bed or dare to rollover.