I’ve been thinking about you Slim People. I mentioned that I had a pain in my neck, and wow, your kindness has been overwhelming.
Your concern was…some kinda wonderful. Thanks for all the positively positive emails and cards and advice and everything. I don’t want to crank up the Slim Sappiness too high, I just want you to know I appreciate you caring, SlimNation.
This here’s a true story. A couple days ago, my friend Abe took me out to dinner in Palm Springs for my birthday. Abe is a guy I really admire. He’s 96, and he walks and swims and reads and remembers what he had for breakfast on a plane ride to Australia years ago.
He’s sharp, and a sharp-dresser. And tough. When he was in his 80s, he was in Argentina and a pickpocket stole his wallet. He chased the guy down, tackled him, and got it back. He’s traveled all around the world. He went to China last year, and is going to Germany this April. Did I mention he is 96?
Well, Abe fell down last week and hurt his back so bad they had to take him to the emergency room in an ambulance. The doctor told him he had a swollen bruise on his back the size of a basketball. And two days later, Abe insisted on taking me out to dinner. He walked with a cane, but he got around.
He didn’t complain once the whole evening. Not once.
I kinda wished he would have. It would have made me feel a whole lot better about whining about my neck. But why stop now?
Sleeping is the biggest problem. I sleep on my stomach, I always have. When I sleep on my back I feel real…vulnerable. Exposed. I don’t know why. It’s not like I was raised in the jungles of Africa, where a pouncing puma could leap on my over-sized head and sever my carotid artery with a claw.
It’s not like I’m paranoid about being attacked by a meth-crazed machete-wielding landscaper in the middle of the night. I just feel a lot more secure sleeping on my stomach, which is basically bad for my neck bone.
Have you ever had a massage, one where you lay face-down on those massage tables? They have a little cradle for your head. Here’s what I’m thinking, which is dangerous for me because of my ailment, Attention Surplus Syndrome—you know the acronym.
Why can’t they make a bed for people who sleep on their stomachs? Make a mattress with a hole near the top, one where you could place your melon. Have the hole go all the way through to the floor. You could put a monitor down there and watch TV and stuff. Place your favorite festive beverage on the side, get a really long straw, and sip away. Put a light on the side, and you could read a book. Sure, turning pages would be tough, but we could work it out, right? You’ve heard of SmartPhones. Let’s make a SmartBed.
When I was back east for Christmas, the popular gift was one of those voice-activated cylindrical devices. Google makes one, so does Amazon. You yell at it to play some music, for instance, and like magic, music plays.
I yelled at one of those things to play some Slim Man, and they played not only Slim Man, but music similar to Slim Man. The first song to come on after mine was a Barry White tune, which was cool with me. Barry White and Slim Man. Now that would have made a great tour. The White/Man Tour.
Well, you could place one of those cylinder things at the bottom of the hole in the bed. You could yell at it to turn pages. Or change channels. Or dim the lights. Or play some White/Man music. Sure, if you’re not sleeping alone it might be a bit weird for your partner to hear you hollering White/Man at the floor in the middle of the night, but your neck would feel better.
I obviously need some rest. In a SmartBed.
Thanks for everything, Slimmest of All People.
Who loves ya?