The next one we try is divided in half, presumably to save space: you can lie on the "ultra-firm" side, then roll right over to the "cushion-firm" side, and all on the same mattress. Unlike the last one (a paragon of fluffy, soporific virtue that gently cradled me like a handful of Vicodin), I can feel my bones shifting in protest against this unforgiving surface that is less mattress and more objectified stubborn rage.
Apparently my distress shows on my face, and Katie, watching me, says, "Oh God, this one really isn't going to work, is it?"
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